


Shields Tightly Sealed Together

by Fourticktock



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Reality, Biblical References, Character Death, Christian Mythology, Dean Angst, Family, Gen, Re-writing of canon, SPOILERS Captain America: The Winter Soldier and SHIELD season finale, Supernatural Elements, desecration of holy site, fixing the leviathans, leviathans but not as you know them, non-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:57:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1705667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fourticktock/pseuds/Fourticktock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson discovers something interesting about the Captain’s past, or is it his future? </p><p>At the same time: What happens when worlds collide and institutions fall? Who do you trust when spies are demons and demons are spies? And how do you defeat the enemy of your enemies?</p><p>In the middle of world-shattering revelations about Dean's heritage, the Winchesters must team up with THE Captain America to stop leviathans from taking SHIELD, demons from taking Hydra, and everyone in between trying to control the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title in reference to the description of leviathans in Job 41:15
> 
> Notes on timelines in the different fandoms: For Captain America, this is pre-Winter Soldier, Post-Avengers. In the Supernatural universe it’s mid seventh season. 
> 
> Notes: This story will take a lot of liberties with all canons involved. New information about the changes will appear in story. That said, if anyone needs more explanation, don’t hesitate to request it or email me at fourticktock@outlook.com

'Dean,' Sam called from the bedroom.

'Yeah?' Dean replied, not stopping brushing his teeth. He frowned, thinking Sam had sounded a bit anxious. He poked his head out of the bathroom. Sam was seated on the bed, staring wide-eyed at the television, which he couldn't see from where he was standing.

'You gotta see this,' Sam said.

'What?'

'Remember the Aliens?'

'Dude, I am not falling for that again,' Dean retreated back into the bathroom, spitting and rinsing his mouth.

'I'm not kidding, Dean!' Sam shouted, excitement levels rising. 'Get in here!'

Dean sighed, put away his toothbrush, and walked into the bedroom. He took one look at the television, featuring swarms of aliens descending over New York from a giant space-hole, and sighed.

'Well, fuck.'

XXX

_Several weeks later…_

'Why are you going to investigate something no one in SHIELD thinks is worthwhile?' Ward asked, staring out the window as they flew over a fly-over state.

'I have a special interest in it,' Coulson said, he was packing a few items in a duffle bag. 'Call it a hunch.'

'But this looks like something The History Channel should be doing a special on,' Skye said, reading the local news articles on the case. Weird deaths, apparently spanning over a hundred years. It had become a local legend. The Mill Witch.

'Shield investigated almost a dozen paranormal cases back when they first started,' Simmons informed them. 'But none of them proved the existence of anything.'

'I know,' Coulson said. 'Shield stopped sending agents to these type of cases by the early seventies.'

'So then why?'

'I have been conducting a personal investigation of my own,' he admitted. 'Not into any ghosts or witches. A man, named Dean Winchester. I think he might be here.'

'Why is he of interest?' Ward asked.

'Look,’ Coulson sighed, ‘I'm going to play this close to my chest until I have confirmation. I appreciate your patience for this detour. Just let me off, and get back to headquarters so you can all take your vacation time. It’s well deserved.'

Most of his agents wanted to protest, but he assured them he wasn't in any danger. It was a crackpot case, after all. This was how his personal days usually went. They let him off on their way back to headquarters, landing in a big open field. Coulson took his car, and drove into town alone.

He stopped at the local diner, which was busy for such a small town with few travellers coming through. He went up to the counter and caught the attention of the waitress by showing his badge.

‘Miss, have you seen either of these two gentlemen in here recently?’ He showed her the photo of the Winchesters he had decided to use. It was from a security camera, but it was either that or show one of their mugshots over the years, and this was the most recent.

‘Aren’t those the FBI agents?’ she asked, eyebrows rising. ‘You looking for each other?’

‘How long ago where they in here?’

‘They had breakfast. The shorter one had a full one, while the other only had the greek yogurt.’ She seemed disgusted by the idea.

‘You know where they might have gone?’

‘Well, they were investigating the Witch,’ she shrugged. ‘Her lair is up on Uphill Mill, down the road along the river, until you round the old factory,’ she nodded in the right direction.

‘Her lair?’ he asked.

‘That’s where the first one was killed, back in eighteen ninety six,’ the waitress stage-whispered. ‘Kids like to go up there on Halloween to spook each other. I lost my virginity up there.’ She sighed wistfully.

‘Really? Well, um, congratulations,’ Coulson said awkwardly. He stuffed a fiver in the tip jar and headed back out.

XXX

‘Sammy?’ Dean called, walking very slowly round the perimeter. He was sure he heard something non-human. Why did it always have to be inside old derelict buildings? So many creepy sharp things to get yourself stabbed on.

‘Sammy, you up there?’ he raised his voice, shotgun at the ready. He entered the main room of the old mill, full of the wear and tear of a thousand rebellious teenagers over the years. Graffiti was on every surface. All kinds of junk, even an old fridge, littered the place. A horrific-looking couch was decorated with beer bottles and condom wrappers. He stood in the middle of the large room, listening for the creak of the floor above, where Sammy should be searching.

Instead he heard very discreet footsteps coming from behind. He knew Sam wouldn’t sneak up on him, and the ghost wouldn’t make any noise at all. He spun, raising his gun.

‘Easy,’ a man said. Dean looked him over: old, balding, FBI-ish suit, shoulder holster under his jacket, kind face.

‘Who are you, what are you doing here?’ Dean asked. The man didn’t have his gun drawn, so he wasn’t there to arrest them.

‘I just want to talk-’ Before the man could finish his sentence, a terrible cold spot passed over them. Their breaths showed on the air instantly, and Dean’s focus shifted to the room around them. ‘What is that?’ the man asked. He didn’t seem disturbed or afraid, just curious.

‘Sammy!’ Dean yelled. ‘Get your ass in gear!’

The Witch-ghost materialized right in front of him, but before he could get a shot off she had passed straight through him, making his body clench with creepy coldness. She slammed into the man physically, however, and pinned him to the wall.

She was an ugly ghost, probably hadn’t been much of a looker while living either. She had gone for the “empty eye sockets and screaming mouth” look. Very Burtonesque, except for the being real and terrifying part.

Dean could not shoot her since the blast would go through her and hit the random agent, so he looked around for something iron.

She choked the agent, lifting him off the floor by the throat. He scrambled, trying to grab at her, but his hands went right through. She was one advanced ghost.

‘Hey!’ Dean cried, attempting a distraction. ‘Don’t you remember, it’s me you want? Womanizer, alcoholic, the whole shebang. By the way, ever heard of make-up? Maybe it was after your time, but you could use some.’

The ghost seemed to realise her mistake, as she slowly turned her head all the way around to stare at Dean without eyes. ‘Yeah, there you go. You know how many women I’ve just left, not even called? I deserve to die a horrible death.’

She let go of the agent, who flopped down to the floor, gasping for air.

‘Move out of the way!’ Dean raised his gun and the guy thankfully ducked and rolled out of the way just as Dean shot two rounds of salt into her. She screamed and disappeared.

‘She’ll be back soon,’ Dean warned, going over to help the guy up. He seemed remarkably calm, and actually righted his damn tie when he stood.

‘How long?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know, could be five minutes, or five seconds.’

‘And your brother?’

‘He’s suppose to be taking care of things,’ Dean grumbled, ignoring the fact that the man knew Sam was his brother. ‘Sammy!’

‘How? How do you take care of something… something like that?’

‘A ghost?’ Dean started looking around again, and finally found a really old axe. He handed it to the agent. ‘Iron, keeps them away, like the salt in the gun. Sam is upstairs looking for her diary. She stashed it here back in 1896, after she’d made her first kill. Once he torches it, she’ll be gone for good.’ He wasn’t sure why he was explaining things so thoroughly, but the agent just had the sort of face you felt the need to confide in.

They heard a horror-filled scream, coming from all directions. Dean and the agent automatically went back-to-back.

Another scream, and Dean saw her spectre moving through the walls, flitting in and out of the room as if to lure him into firing at her. She screamed again, the noise threatening to burst their eardrums.

‘Death is coming,’ she screamed. How original, Dean thought. It was in the middle of July for fuck’s sake. What was with the Halloween schtick?

She materialized fully right in front of him, and Dean tried to shoot her, but she was quick. He felt the agent swinging the axe and turned, missing again. He needed to reload. She opened her mouth wide, her hands up like claws ready to strike.

Then she thankfully burst into flames, screaming in agony until there was only a tiny pile of soot on the floor. The agent knelt immediately, taking a pinch of it up to his nose. He smelled it, then stared at it intently. Dean left him to go shout up the stairs in the corner of the room.

‘Sammy?’

‘Yeah, I’m here.’

Sam came trotting down the stairs, shotgun in hand. He stopped short at the agent, who rose. ‘Who’s this?’

‘My name is Phil Coulson, I’m with SHIELD,’ Coulson said.

‘You mean the Area 51 guys from the New York… thing?’ Dean was still reluctant to call them aliens. It just felt wrong in his mouth.

‘Correct.’

‘Why are you here? Moving into the supernatural business?’

‘No-, at least,’ Coulson glanced down to her remains. ‘That wasn’t my plan, but in light of what I’ve seen here we might need to.’

‘Don’t bother,’ Dean said, walking towards the exit. ‘We’ve got it taken care of.’

Sam followed him with a pensive frown in Coulson’s direction. The agent must have had one last look around, because he didn’t catch up with them until they were outside by the Impala, putting away their weapons.

‘I actually just came to talk to you,’ Coulson said, glancing at the trunk. Dean slammed it shut and leaned against it, daring the man to say something. He didn’t. Dean had no idea what sort of jurisdiction SHIELD operated with, and by the sound the 24hour news networks were making, neither did the government really. Coulson’s blank expression was beginning to unnerve him. He nodded towards the red Corvette. ‘That thing yours?’ A red convertible wasn’t exactly government issue, and aside from the age of the car, it didn’t seem this guy’s type at all.

Coulson actually gave a smile and glanced at her. ‘Yeah, she’s mine,’ he said, ‘1962 model, fully restored.’ He nodded at the Impala. ‘Yours is nice too.’ It was hard to tell if that was sincere. The Impala wasn’t exactly a mainstream classic.

‘So, what do you want to talk with us about?’

‘Just you, Mr. Winchester. I have some questions about your father.’

Dean glanced at Sam, who gave that “what now?” frown that did not bode well.

XXX

‘I’m not listening to this,’ Dean leaned back, dismissive, looking towards the bar so he could get a stiffer drink than beer. Sam had his thinking-face on, which was all kinds of wrong since he should be wearing his bitch-face.

This Coulson guy was full of crap. He sat across from them in the booth, looking almost apologetic. Papers were spread out over the table between them. His “research.”

‘If I could get a sample-’ he began.

‘Ha! Not gonna happen. If there’s one thing you don’t do in this business it’s letting others have any parts of you, blood, tissue, anything.’

‘Why would that be an issue?’ Coulson asked, frowning.

‘You wanna explain?’ Dean tossed the question to Sam, who sighed.

‘Spells, witches, demons, countless other creatures who can get your scent and track your anywhere. Trust me, parts of you that hold your essence have a lot of uses in our kind of work.’

‘Noted,’ Coulson said. ‘But it is the only way to confirm-’

‘There is nothing to confirm,’ Dean snapped. ‘This is crazy, it’s absolute insanity.’

‘Dean-’ Sam began, but he shut up with a look from Dean.

‘If you would just look at what I’ve found,’ Coulson tried. At that moment, Dean really wanted to annoy this man. He was too damn calm, but this pet theory of his was close to his heart, though he tried to hide it. Dean leaned forward, eyes hard.

‘You really want this all to be true don’t you?’ He shook his head mockingly. ‘Bet you were a fanboy back in the day.’ Coulson’s left eye twitched, ever-so-slightly. Dean grinned. ‘But see, there’s one big problem with all this crap,’ he indicated Coulson’s papers. ‘I’m not your man. I know that because I’ve gone through hell, literally, because I’m a Winchester. You can ask the Devil himself, though he might not pick up the phone at the moment.’

Coulson cleared his throat, beginning to re-organise his papers, but he didn’t seem upset, or affected in any real way. Dean was disappointed. Once Coulson had stacked them all, he looked up at Dean.

‘If you’re so certain, then a test will only confirm it, and I’ll leave you alone forever.’

‘Is that a threat?’

‘I can be persistent.’ Coulson looked around the bar. ‘This life of yours, for example. Hunting, ghosts, witches. It really should be regulated by SHIELD.’

‘I told you, we don’t need your help,’ Dean growled.

‘I’m sure you’re very good at your job, but with SHIELD’s resources-’

‘This job doesn’t need resources,’ Dean said, forcing himself to remain calm or else he might punch the guy. ‘Hunting is instinct. You can’t learn it in a fucking gym or an obstacle course. But more than that, you have to be in this for the right reason, and a paycheck isn’t it.’

Coulson was silent after Dean’s little speech. Eventually he nodded.

‘I won’t tell anyone about this part of the world. We have more than enough to deal with what’s coming from above.’

‘In exchange for a sample?’ Dean scoffed.

‘I just want confirmation,’ Coulson explained, as if that made it better.

‘Dean, I think you should do it,’ Sam said.

‘What? You believe any of this?’

‘No- but if there’s even a slightest chance-’

‘There isn’t one, and you know that. Michael and Lucifer fucking know that.’

‘I really hope that’s not meant to be taken literally,’ Coulson mumbled, but Dean ignored him.

‘Is that really proof of anything?’ Sam asked. ‘It didn’t exactly work like they planned.’ He threw his hands up in a frustrated gesture. ‘Maybe this is the reason.’

‘You’re insane.’

‘You’re my brother,’ Sam told him, puppy-eyes on full. ‘Nothing will ever change that, so let’s just humor this guy and get it over with. Then we can go back to killing evil monsters, and he can kill evil aliens. Everyone’s happy.’ He gave a half-shrug.

‘Fine.’ Coulson reached into his bag and pulled out one of those Q-tip things they always use on CSI. Dean sighed, feeling like a suspect, which wasn’t that unusual for him. He took it roughly from Coulson and swiped inside his mouth, giving it back with a slight shiver down his spine. Coulson packed his stuff up.

‘I’ll have the results in a few weeks. Is there a number I can reach you on?’

Dean rummaged in his pockets until he found one of his FBI calling cards. Coulson raised an eyebrow, but that was his only reaction.

‘Thank you for your cooperation,’ he said, rising. He nodded to both of them. ‘And for saving my life back there.’ He left a few dollars for his beer, and a hefty tip, and left. Dean and Sam sat in silence for a good long while.

Finally, Sam broke the silence.

‘It would explain a lot,’ he said softly. ‘Your strength, for one. Well, that’s the only big one, I suppose.’

‘You can’t be serious.’

‘Come on, can’t you admit it would be just a little bit cool? The grandson of Captain fucking America?’

Dean ignored him and ordered a whiskey.

XXX

_27 years ago_

‘Dean, take your brother and go!’ Dean was in shock, the noise, the flames, and suddenly his brother in his arms. He wasn’t allowed to hold Sammy without supervision, but his father turned and ran back into the room.

Dean knew to obey, so he turned and ran. He clutched Sammy tightly while he ran down the stars, jumping the last two steps.

He reached the front door, and Dean immediately knew he would have trouble opening it. He didn’t dare let go of Sammy, but grabbing the handle while holding him so carefully was difficult. Panic set in when he heard his father scream from upstairs. He could _hear_ the flames.

He took a step back and kicked the door with all his strength. It banged open, the lock breaking.

Dean ran outside to the sidewalk, and looked up at the house. The flames were licking the roof through the bedroom window. A moment later and his father came running out, coughing. He fell to his knees on the front lawn, head bowed. Dean rushed over.

‘Dad?’ he asked.

His father looked up, his hand coming to touch Sammy’s forehead. His face was sweaty, or full of tears, or both. He looked at Sammy like it was the only thing he had left in the world. Then suddenly, he frowned, glancing back at the door as if he had only just noticed.

Before he could ask, they heard the firetrucks, and their lives changed forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New title! From Job 41:15, which describes the biblical leviathans. Also, a nice reference to SHIELD, Cap's Shield, and families sealed together through fate.

_S.H.I.E.L.D., Washington, DC._

‘When exactly did you start this case?’ Fury asked. His desk was covered in Coulson’s research. This was the first time Coulson had been in Fury’s new office at the new headquarters in Washington. The view was spectacular, but Coulson couldn’t help but think it looked more like the office of a CEO than the Director of SHIELD. 

‘I’ve been working on it on and off over the years,’ Coulson said. He tried not to fidget in his chair - that wasn’t something he was prone to - but it was difficult when discussing this case. 

‘How many years?’ 

‘I don’t actually remember when I had my first hunch,’ Coulsons admitted. ‘But I guess maybe five or… ten years ago. I’ve only ever used my personal time on it - no SHIELD resources.’ 

‘Your personal time?’ Fury asked, as if this was a foreign concept. ‘That explains a lot.’ He glanced down at the file on Dean Winchester, the top (and currently only) suspect. He sighed as he picked it up, staring at Winchester’s latest mugshot. 

‘This man has been number two on the FBI’s most wanted list, died, come back to life, got on the list again, and died, _again_.’ 

‘Officially, the FBI only admits to the one death,’ Coulson pointed out. Fury nodded. 

‘Murders, a lot of them, graveyard desecrations, body mutilations, robbery, forgery, impersonating an FBI agent, policeman, and US Marshall, and I’m not even halfway down his rap sheet.’ He threw the file down again. ‘This is the man you think is the grandson of Captain Rogers?’ 

‘Sir, if you read my version of events, I believe-’ 

‘Yes, I did read your version, and your latest report. You _believe_ in the supernatural now,’ Fury said, making it clear he was still very much a skeptic. ‘Listen, Phil,’ he sighed. 

‘I saw it,’ Coulson said. ‘I saw a ghost with my own eyes. The Winchesters are part of what I believe is a nation-wide, informal network of hunters.’ 

‘Hunters?’ 

‘That’s what they call themselves. They kill anything supernatural that’s a threat to people. They do good work.’ 

‘And the cases from SHIELD’s records? Why didn’t our agents find anything confirming the supernatural back then?’ 

‘My theory is they didn’t know what they were looking for. They based their search off of accepted practices among known spiritualists and ghost hunters, who were all charlatans,’ Coulson shrugged. ‘Real hunters don’t publish.’ 

‘I see.’ 

‘This isn’t something SHIELD needs to focus on, Sir,’ Coulson said. ‘In fact, I think sending agents in would only disrupt things, and people’s lives could be put at risk.’ 

‘So you’re telling me,’ Fury said, leaning forward. ‘You went out looking for the grandson of Captain America, on a ten-year hunch, and what you found was proof of the supernatural, and a whole class of people fighting and killing them?’ 

‘In a nutshell, yes,’ Coulson confirmed. 

‘And you want me to do nothing?’ 

‘I want you to let me test Dean Winchester’s DNA against Steve Roger’s, to confirm.’ 

‘Let’s leave that for a second,’ Fury said. ‘There are ghosts out there, homicidal ghosts, and you don’t want SHIELD involved?’ 

‘No, Sir, I would not recommend it. I suspect these hunters might have generations’ worth of knowledge, and a very unique set of instincts. To send out agents will only make hunters go underground for fear of arrest. That could lead to lives lost, Sir, while we try to play catch-up. There is no way to guarantee we wouldn’t make the same mistakes we did decades ago, and come up empty.’ 

Fury leaned back. It wasn’t like Coulson so advise not getting involved, but when he looked at the Winchester brothers’ records, it was hard not to imagine the true stories behind all the charges. If they really were the good guys, they wouldn’t be keen on sharing information with anything that smelled of government. Being hunted while you were doing good was something Fury could relate to. 

‘I’ll take your comments under advisement,’ he said, returning to the research about familiar ties. ‘So, Dean Winchester is the last candidate?’ 

‘Yes, Sir, he is the last one born at the right time, in the right hospital.’ Coulson indicated the right papers and Fury picked them up again with a put-upon sigh. This couldn’t really be happening, he thought. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that this job could still surprise him. 

‘Switched at birth,’ he said, shaking his head in disbelief. 

‘Yes, sir. His biological mother died of cancer a few years ago, and Captain Roger’s son died in the 1979 Warsaw gas explosion.’ 

‘I remember that,’ Fury said. ‘Officially it was a gas leak, but there was always speculations about a bomb.’ 

‘Yes, Sir.’ 

Fury flipped through more files. 

‘Agent Peggy Carter,’ Fury said as he found her folder in the research. ‘Deceased,’ he said with sincere regret. 

‘I never had the courage to ask her,’ Coulson admitted. ‘I studied her service record obsessively when I was first recruited. That’s where all this started, really, when I noticed discrepancies. Look, Sir,’ Coulson sat up straight. ‘I know there is no actual evidence that the man who died in Warsaw was her son, or even concrete proof that _his_ son was switched and given to the Winchesters, but if you’ll just let me do one test, I’ll at least have peace of mind, and I swear I will put this whole case away for good.’ 

Fury leaned back, studying Coulson long and hard. He glanced down at the files one last time, before answering. ‘Fine, do your test, but off the record. You come straight to me with the results.’ 

‘Yes, Sir, thank you.’ Fury waved him away, and Coulson wisely took the hint and left the office. 

XXX

_One Week Later_

‘What about Janice, in IT?’ Natasha suggested after the debriefing. Steve smiled, shaking his head at her persistence. 

‘I don’t understand half the words that come out of her mouth,’ Steve said. 

‘I don’t either. Her accent is a bit difficult.’ Steve chuckled at the joke. Natasha never assumed he didn’t know modern phrases, and he was getting better by leaps and bounds every day. 

They were both heading down to the lockers to change out of their suits and head home - though Steve had no idea where Natasha called home. 

As they approached the elevator, she adjusted her belt slightly, and Steve knew she was thinking about getting out of her suit, safe and familiar though it was. Steve liked his new suit, but he had to tell the boys it needed better heat-management. He was too padded. 

‘How about-’ Natasha began. Just then the elevator opened to reveal a very nice looking young woman. By the type of jumpsuit she was wearing, Steve guessed she was some sort of engineer working on the lower floors. He didn’t know what they had down there, but whatever it was it required a lot of personnel. She smiled and Steve returned it politely, stepping into the elevator and facing the beautiful view of Washington. Natasha pressed the button and gave Steve the “why not her?” look. He rolled her eyes at her and shook his head. 

The woman was standing very stiffly, Steve noted when he felt compelled to glance at her. She was watching the floor numbers count down above the doors. She had a computer pad clutched to her chest. Her hair was done up in a ponytail, but it had been roughed up a little, like someone had pulled at it. 

Steve went back to watching the view, only to glance back a moment later. The elevator stopped again, revealing an elderly man in a suit. Steve didn’t recognise him, but he looked like a “behind the desk” agent. Balding, the first hints of a belly after years of service, and no shoulder holster under his jacket. He smiled to everyone in the elevator, then positioned himself directly next to the woman, fixing his gaze on the same spot above the doors. 

They were about halfway down the massive SHIELD skyscraper, so Steve could still enjoy the view. There was something off, however, about the atmosphere in the elevator. He glanced at Natasha, and she returned the look of confusion, but it was clear she couldn’t put a finger on it. Steve glanced behind him at the two other occupants. Perhaps it was simply Monday blues. 

Since the elevator was silent, and even the motors were incredibly quiet, Steve focused on his hearing. That was it. It wasn’t just quiet - it was as if the two others were hardly even breathing. 

The elevator stopped on the ground floor at last. Steve and Natasha were suppose to go a few floors further down to change, but by unspoken agreement they both got off after the two other SHIELD employees. 

The woman got off first, walking straight out into the lobby. The man followed, though he kept a leisurely pace to conceal this fact. 

The giant entrance hall was always populated by employees coming and going. Half of the space was filled with seating areas, the huge stairs up to the first floor, and a round kiosk/coffee shop. At the halfway point was security, with checkpoints operated by both men and computers, double-checking each other. All of it protected by a glass ceiling stretching between the main building and into the lower office building next to it. 

To put it simply, it wasn’t an easy place to follow someone without being very obvious about it. The man seemed determined, however, and so Steve and Natasha followed as well. There was no reason Steve could think of for a SHIELD employee to shadow another. 

About thirty feet into the lobby area Steve could tell the woman was picking up speed, and the man was again following suit. 

Steve and Natasha were perhaps twenty feet behind the man, and closing in, but then suddenly the man pounced. And he didn’t just run at her, he moved so quickly even Steve had trouble registering it all. 

In an instant the man was on the woman, grabbing at the computer pad. She got him hard with a right hook, and it looked like a hit hard enough to break bone, but it was like it just slid right off him. He didn’t even seem to blink. He held onto the computer pad firmly and shoved her hard. She went sprawling onto the floor. 

There was a moment - perhaps only half a second - when the woman rose from her position. Steve could have sworn he saw her eyes go all black. 

By then, Steve and Natasha were on the scene. Natasha had her gun out, while Steve grabbed at elderly man, forcing his arms behind his back. The computer pad fell to the floor. 

‘Are you all right?’ Natasha asked the woman. 

‘Who are you?’ Steve asked the man. He hadn’t struggled much, which was a bit unnerving. Steve couldn’t see his face, but by the way Natasha was staring at him, he must look wrong. 

‘She’s a traitor, a spy,’ the man said. 

The woman came forward and was about to pick up the pad when Natasha bent to pick it up instead. She lunged at the pad suddenly, snatching it out of Natasha’s fingers and running full-tilt towards the doors. 

She was fast, faster than was normal. Steve would have let Natasha go after her since he had his hands full, but just then the man ripped himself free and ran after her. He had been so strong Steve had been completely unprepared. He glanced at Natasha in disbelief for a second before sprinting off after them. 

The woman was almost at the checkpoint, and by now many had noticed the commotion, so all the guards were out in full force, standing side by side to catch her. 

The elderly man somehow reached her first and grabbed at her around the waist, lifting her right off her feet. She struggled, kicking and hitting him. He flung her to the floor hard enough to crack the tiles. 

The guards had their guns out now, calling out warnings to stop. Steve knew he saw it this time: her eyes were completely black and she _hissed_ at the man in anger when he ripped the pad from her hands. 

Steve grabbed his arm. ‘Stop right now,’ he ordered. The man punched him right across the left cheek, and it was hard enough for Steve to stumble backwards. 

The man, or whatever he was, glanced around him, assessing the situation, and then ran for it. The guards gave several shouts of warning, but Steve knew they wouldn’t shoot him point-blank. He burst through them like they were nothing and continued straight out of the building. 

Steve set off after him without hesitation, leaving the woman, or whatever she was, for Natasha to deal with. 

People turned in surprise as the pair ran past them, but none of them seemed to know what to do when seeing Captain America chasing down what looked like an old man. They were approaching the gates, and Steve waved his arm in the hope the gatehouse guys would catch on. They did, and the gates started closing, concrete walls closing slowly from bottom to top, but it would be too late. 

The man jumped the wall, and Steve had to follow. How the hell was this guy so quick? He hope he might catch him on the long bridge, but about a third of the way across the man made a sharp left turn. He ran straight to the edge of the bridge and threw himself into the water. Steve reached the spot a moment later, and was about to dive in after when he was stopped dead in his tracks. 

The man was… dissolving. In a matter of seconds the body was gone, and Steve could see streaks of blackness shoot off in all directions, disappearing into the water. Everything was gone, just like that. The black streaks had seemed almost alive, like smokey snakes flitting through the water. It was eerie, and Steve felt an uncomfortable shiver run down his spine. 

He heard agents running down the bridge. When he looked up at them they all stopped short, staring at his face in confusion. Steve didn’t know it, but he looked like he had seen a ghost. 

‘Sir,’ one of the agents managed to speak up. ‘Agent Romanov has captured the other hostile. She needs you back inside.’ Steve nodded, took one last look at the empty water, and headed back inside. 

He was led downstairs to the interrogation and containment floors, where he found Natasha in one of the observation rooms. The large one-way window showed the woman inside the completely grey and square room. She was leaning against the corner, eyes staring right at them as if she could see them. Her hair was wild, indicating she had been thrashing about. 

Natasha was still breathing a bit heavily, and judging by the way several SHIELD agents were standing around looking more than a little rumpled, Steve guessed it had taken quite a bit of force to get her in there. 

‘We threw her in there and she started running into the walls like a crazy person,’ Natasha said. ‘Like she was trying to knock herself unconscious, but she never did.’ She looked Steve up and down. ‘What happen to the old guy?’ 

‘Dissolved,’ Steve said. ‘Jumped into the lake and just disappeared.’ He stepped up to the window. 

‘Dissolved?’ Natasha repeated. The woman looked right at Steve, and when she blinked, her eyes turned black for a second. Steve stepped back, swallowing. 

‘What the hell is going on?’ he asked no one in particular. 

‘That’s what I was going to ask.’ Everyone in the room turned at the sound of Director Fury’s voice. He approached the window, observing the prisoner. Agent Hill came in after him, holding a computer pad of her own. She was looking at it intently. 

Steve filled him in on the events, including the eyes. Fury took it all in with his usual expressionless face. He turned to Hill. 

‘Who is she?’ 

‘Susan Beale, an engineer on the downstairs project,’ Hill read from her files. ‘There is nothing unusual in her record, Sir. She is a clean, upstanding employee of SHIELD, for five years now.’ 

Fury pressed the button to engage the microphone so his voice could be heard in the interrogation room. 

‘What are you?’ he asked. She did not answer, but her head tilted slightly in what Steve thought was an animalistic manner. She smiled, giving a mirthless laugh. 

‘I’m trying to help you, you pathetic humans,’ she hissed. 

‘Why?’ Fury asked. ‘Why would something like you want to help us? Being so pathetic?’ She laughed again, then banged her head hard against the wall several times. Steve glanced at Fury, but he was completely unmoved and gave no order to stop her. 

‘Where is Miss Beale?’ he asked. 

‘She’s in here,’ the woman said, smiling. ‘She’s in a lot of pain. She’d like me to get out- LET ME OUT!’ She shot across the room, slamming into the window, but it didn’t break. All the agents leapt back, and Steve flinched. 

‘First tell me what I need to know.’ 

‘You stupid, pathetic creatures,’ she said, her voice like a wailing banshee. It didn’t sound human at all. Her body was pressed into the glass, and then her eyes turned black. ‘You’re all going to get _eaten_ ,’ she said. 

Fury stepped back from the creature. He turned to Hill. 

‘We’re going to need a consultation.’ 

XXX

_Somewhere in southern Missouri._

One of these days, Dean would have to put a tracker on Sam. The dude got captured more than Lois Lane for fuck’s sake. 

The farmhouse was empty and one storm away from complete collapse, but there were signs of habitation. Vampire habitation. The carefully boarded up windows, and the fridge of blood were the main giveaways. Dean scrunched up his nose at the sight of the living room. It smelled of death, and the stain on the floor between the old TV and the single recliner chair was not just blood, it was rot. 

He left the house by the kitchen door, moving as silently as he could, his machete at the ready. The grass was almost tall enough to hide in, and he slipped through it across the old homestead towards the barn. He pressed himself against the door and listened. There had to be at least three vamps in there. Sam’s grunts of pain told of a distinct lack of hospitality. 

Dean burst through the door and got the first vamp’s head off in one well-aimed swing. The two others ran at him and he charged then right back, swinging wide and getting them to back off. They bared their fangs at him, neither one of them wanting to make the first move. 

Dean slashed at one, knowing he would miss, and kicked the other in the stomach, sending him hard into the side of an old tractor enough to break a human’s back. The first one lunged at him, but he ducked, spun and slashed, this time getting at the neck cleanly. 

The vampire, now alone, looked at his dead companions with fear and tried for the door. Dean hacked at him, getting him between the shoulders. He fell to his knees in pain. Dean pulled the knife out, lifted it, and took the head off. 

‘Nice,’ Sam said from where he was tied to one of the wooden columns. Dean went to him, and finding no key he just broke apart the old chain easily. Sam rubbed at his wrists while Dean pulled him to his feet. 

‘Next time, don’t get caught.’ 

Dean wiped the machete off on one of the bodies. ‘Go get the lighter fluid,’ he said. ‘I’ll stack them. We can take down the whole house before it becomes a hazard.’ 

Just as Sam was about to do as he was told, Dean’s phone rang. ‘Isn’t Frank the only one with that number?’ Sam asked. 

‘Yeah,’ Dean said as he answered. ‘Frank?’ 

‘Dean,’ Frank’s voice sounded panicked, but that was hardly unusual. The man was more paranoid than a priest in a stripjoint. But if Leviathans were taking over the world, Dean supposed they needed a little paranoia. ‘Someone is looking for you.’ 

‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ Dean said. ‘I got Leviathans, Demons - even Angels - all riding my ass.’ 

‘Well, this time, it’s a new party, and oh boy, they are the last ones you want looking for you!’

‘Who?’ What could be worse than leviathans or Crowley? 

‘SHIELD!’ 

‘Shit.’ 

‘They’ve been trying to access all your old email accounts and looking into your phone records. Dean, they even know all your old fake credit cards. They want to find you, badly.’ 

‘Yeah, Frank, I know- I mean, I think I know what they want.’ Dean’s stomach dropped at the thought. He had no desire to hear from Agent Coulson ever again. He had hoped the lack of response was a sign it was all bullshit. 

‘What did you do to piss them off, Dean?’ Frank said. ‘These guys are the spies who spy on spies. No one hides from them for long.’ 

‘It’s a long story,’ Dean sighed. ‘Listen, just, let them find us, all right?’ 

‘Let them find you?!’ Frank yelled so loudly Dean had to pull the phone away from his ear. 

‘Frank, calm down, look, just give them my number, I’ll deal with them.’ 

‘This goes against everything I’ve tried to do for you two,’ Frank said, clearly offended. ‘This is not staying off the grid.’ 

‘I know, but this needs to be settled.’ 

‘Fine, but you’re changing phones immediately after!’ 

‘Agreed.’ 

Frank slammed the phone down, and Dean shut his off. Sam gave him a questioning look. 

‘Looks like the results are in,’ Dean told him. 

‘And?’ Sam asked.

‘I need a drink.’


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be sure to check tags for any added ones for every chapter. This is a WIP, so although I have a fairly detailed outline of how the story will go, things might change.

_Two hours later_

The diner only had two other patrons, a trucker and a salesman of some sort. The waitress was barely able to keep on her feet. Dean knew they should have met in the next town instead of this roadside mausoleum. Sam was trying not to look it, but he was nervous. The Agent had sounded very vague on the phone. Something about “needing their expertise”. Dean hoped that meant the whole business with the Captain was over with. 

Both of them heard the noise at the same time, exchanging a confused frown before looking out the window. Two seconds later some sort of military-grade aircraft flew straight overhead. The other people in the diner barely lifted their heads, and by the time they glanced outside, the plane had disappeared over the roof of the diner. 

Sam and Dean simultaneously rose and headed out, taking a bag with basic supplies with them. They walked around the diner, finding a wide field, now home to a SHIELD vehicle. Christ, Dean knew they had scary technology - New York had proved that - but this was ridiculous. What could they possibly need that thing for? 

The thing opened up, and Agent Coulson came strolling out, calm as you please, as if he had just parked his corvette outside of the diner. He looked a bit idiotic walking across a field in a suit and sunglasses. 

‘Sam, Dean,’ he greeted, removing his glasses. ‘Thank you for taking my call. Your friend Mr. Devereaux left quite the message along with your new number.’ 

i

‘He’s not your biggest fan,’ Dean said. He nodded towards the plane. ‘That thing get you SkyMiles?’ 

‘We call her the Bus,’ Coulson said with a smirk. 

Dean nodded, ‘Right, makes total sense.’ 

‘What’s this about?’ Sam asked. 

‘There’s a situation in Washington,’ Coulson said. ‘We would like you to have a look at a prisoner we suspect might be… demonic in nature.’ 

‘Caught yourself a demon already, and now you don’t know what to do,’ Dean said, ‘Great. Lord save me from amateurs.’ 

‘What about the-’ Sam glanced at Dean, ‘the DNA test?’ 

Coulson cleared his throat and gave Dean a once over, as if checking his condition. 

‘I thought I might explain the results once we were all aboard and more… seated.’ He turned without another word, and Dean was forced to follow with a sinking feeling in his gut. 

If he had thought “The Bus” looked ridiculous on the outside, that was nothing compared to the state of things on the inside. The loading dock was your typical military outfit, but once up in the “office space” of the plane, it looked like a millionaire's mutated RV. Everything was smooth and tightly designed, with seating areas and a goddamn pool table. 

Two agents observed their arrival. One woman, not trained fully judging by her stance, but hot as hell, and a dude with all the hallmarks of a field agent, right down to the superiority complex. Dean didn’t like the look of him at all. 

‘These are Agents Ward and Sky,’ Coulson said, but quickly ushered them into his office before they could exchange niceties. Ward and Sky? He really hoped those weren’t code-names. 

‘Please, have a seat,’ Coulson said while pressing a button on his desk, speaking into an intercom. ‘May, take us straight to Washington.’ He sat down and they did the same across from him - comfy chairs, Dean had to admit. The desk was outfitted with all kinds of technobabble Sam was no doubt salivating over, but Dean kept his eyes on Coulson, waiting for the news. The man looked unflappable as usual, but Dean detected hints of nervousness around his eyes and the squaring of his shoulders. 

‘So, how did you manage to catch a demon?’ Dean heard himself ask. 

‘I haven’t been briefed on the situation,’ Coulson said. ‘Director Fury will explain once you get to Washington.’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ Sam spoke up, shifting in his chair. ‘But you do have the results, right?’ Dean shot him a look, but it was useless. Coulson nodded. He produced a folder from a drawer and put it in front of them. 

‘A complete match,’ he said. ‘You are the grandson of Captain Steve Rogers.’ 

Sam leaned forward and took the folder, opening it to scan the contents. Coulson and Dean watched each other. 

‘Bullshit,’ Dean said. 

‘Dean, look at this,’ Sam said, showing him the folder. Dean glanced at it. Two photos were paperclipped to the top of the page, one was Dean’s most recent mugshot and one from Captain America’s service record. There was no resemblance - apart from the chin, sort of, and the hair, maybe, and eye colour. Everything that set him apart from Sam, basically. 

The page was full of what Dean assumed were results. He looked back to Coulson. 

‘I have to ask, though this can be completely off the record if you want,’ Coulson said, leaning forward in curiosity. ‘Do you have any of his abilities? Strength, speed, accuracy? Even a mild form of it?’ 

‘I’m not Captain America jr,’ Dean said. ‘I’m a Winchester, from Kansas, not Queens or wherever the hell-’

‘Brooklyn,’ Coulson interjected quietly. 

‘Whatever.’ 

‘Dean-’ Sam began. 

‘What the hell is with you?’ Dean turned to him. ‘How can you sit there being all calm - like him?’ He gestured to Coulson, who wisely kept out of their argument. ‘I am not some superhero’s lost past.’ 

‘Dean, these results, and your-’ 

‘Don’t you think Dad would have told me? Don’t you think he might have mentioned I was adopted _once_ before he died?’ Dean tried to keep his voice low, he really did, but the world was spinning the wrong way and he wanted to get off, right now. 

‘Actually, I don’t believe you were adopted.’ Both Winchesters turned to him in surprise. Coulson nodded towards the folder. ‘If you’ll read my rapport. My theory is that you were switched at birth.’ 

‘Jesus Christ, this just keeps getting better and better.’ Dean rolled his eyes. 

‘Your biological mother raised what she thought was a surprisingly normal boy, considering his father’s abilities, but through DNA testing I uncovered that he wasn’t abnormally normal, he was just...’

‘Regular normal,’ Sam concluded. Coulson nodded. Dean could see the gears turning inside Sam’s head. ‘So you found that kid first, thinking you’d found Captain America’s grandson. Then you started looking for all the kids who had been born in the same hospital that day.’ 

‘Birth switches happen more often than people think.’ Yeah, Dean thought, he remembered catching an episode of that on ABC. 

‘What about the parents, where are they?’ Sam asked. Dean unconsciously held his breath. Coulson’s face fell slightly and he shook his head. 

‘Sadly, both have passed. Your biological mother passed a few years ago due to cancer. Captain Roger’s son died right before you were born, in an explosion in Warsaw.’ 

‘Poland, Warsaw?’ Sam asked. 

‘Correct.’ 

‘This is ridiculous,’ Dean cut in before Sam could ask more about Poland. He rose and started pacing, wishing they had never gotten onboard the “Bus”. ‘Turn this thing around. I don’t want anything to do with this.’ 

‘Please,’ Coulson said, the sincerity catching Dean’s attention. It held more emotion than anything he had done yet. ‘I understand why this is upsetting you, but there is a situation in Washington that has nothing to do with this. People’s lives might be at stake. We need your expertise. Don’t let this get in the way of your job.’ 

It sounded almost like a pep-talk, which didn’t sit well with Dean, coming from this goddamn fanboy in a suit, but the guy did have a point. Sam was looking at him like he was bracing himself for an argument. He needed to punch something, and maybe a demon was just the right thing. 

‘Fine. We’ll go to Washington. But I don’t want to hear one more thing about Captain fucking America, got it?’ Coulson nodded, so Dean left the office. He wondered how difficult it would be to play pool while in the air. 

XXX 

The SHIELD office in Washington was ridiculous, which was beginning to be a theme, Dean thought. OK, so it was impressive as hell. Sam had been following the construction online. It wasn’t every year a skyscraper was built in Washington. Then he had gone on and on about “the reveal”, when the government had admitted (or discovered) it wasn’t just any old office block. SHIELD had stepped forward as defender of the earth, and their offices needed to reflect that.

The Bus landed on a large platform that looked like the deck of an airship. Coulson didn’t follow them, and he told them not to mention him or their conversation to anyone except Director Fury. Dean wasn’t going to mention the conversation to anyone ever again, so that wouldn’t be a problem. 

Their bag was taken from them, which was expected. They were escorted inside by a bunch of agents, and their sheer numbers was making Dean feel all kinds of nervous. He and Sam exchanged a look, but there wasn’t much hope of escape if things went sour. 

Then they got “Visitor” badges at the entrance, and suddenly the big scary spies weren’t so scary. Sure, they had technology that implied terrifying levels of power, but they were still made up of regular people, not demons or leviathans. 

Dean felt distinctly out of place surrounded by all the suits. Sam was too busy geeking out to notice the stares. 

They took an elevator down several floors - it was hard to tell how many, since it felt like the elevators went a lot faster than the average kind. When the doors opened to reveal a bland, yet evil-lair-like hallway, a man in a long black coat, and an _eyepatch_ , met them. Dean had to bite back every joke that sprung into his head. This guy did not look the type to appreciate them. He looked them up and down, and Dean was fairly sure the man was disappointed in them already. 

‘Sam and Dean Winchester,’ he greeted, looking from Sam to Dean. ‘I’m Director Fury.’ He nodded to the escorts, who stepped back into the elevator and left them. ‘Coulson briefed you?’ 

‘As much as he could,’ Sam said. ‘He just said you had a demon.’ 

‘I meant the other briefing,’ Fury said. Dean tensed. Fury’s one eye bore into him. 

‘Yeah, he presented his “theory”.’ 

‘Captain Rogers hasn’t been informed,’ Fury said. ‘As far as we know, he never even knew Agent Carter was pregnant, so I think it would be best if you focus on the matter at hand.’ Dean nodded and Fury gave him one last look over, as if checking to see how well he would hold up, and then led the way down the hallway. 

‘Agent Carter,’ Sam said quietly to him as they walked. ‘She was your-’ 

‘Don’t say it,’ Dean hissed, giving him an evil stare. Sam snapped his mouth shut. Perhaps Dean should have just read the damn folder so Sam wouldn’t feel the need to info-box him all the time. 

When they passed through a checkpoint into what Dean understood to be an interrogation and holding ward, he suddenly realised they might be meeting Captain America at any moment. Fury’s words suggested he was nearby, or that he had been involved in the capturing. Dean’s heart-rate doubled. He bit the inside of his cheek to calm himself down and focus his mind. There was a demon inside a massive covert organization. That had to be high up on the bad things scale. 

They entered a large observation room. One wall had a window to see into a room with a woman in the corner. There were monitors and computers underneath, with two agents seated at the controls. Three marine-like soldiers stood at the ready at the back of the room. In the middle was a redheaded woman in all black, and Captain America. He wasn’t in uniform, thank heaven. He wore khakis, a white t-shirt and a brown leather jacket. He really did look like a “man out of time” like the TV specials said. 

The two of them turned to the new arrivals. Dean tried not to stare. He had seen a hundred pictures, drawings and old footage of Captain America over the years. He had never read the comic books, but secretly - _very secretly_ \- a part of him had wondered. He had strength, like him, so why couldn’t they be somehow - not related exactly - but from the same place, maybe? Like Krypton or somewhere less nerdy. Never in a million years had Dean thought that tiny part of him would get what it had wished for. Be careful, as they say. He should have been much more careful. 

‘Captain Rogers, Agents Romanov.’ Fury was making introductions. Dean snapped back to attention just in time. ‘This is Sam and Dean Winchester.’ 

‘So, you’re the experts?’ Captain Rogers - America - said, shaking Sam’s hand and then offering it to Dean. His words hadn’t sounded condescending. More curious if anything. Dean took his hand and shook it, but due to his fried brain he might have done it a little hard, because the Captain gave him an odd look. 

‘We’re hunters,’ Sam offered, catching his attention. 

‘Hunters?’ Captain Rogers asked. 

‘We hunt anything supernatural,’ Sam explained. Captain Rogers’ eyebrows rose. Agent Romanov said something incredulous in Russian. 

‘You saw the woman in action yourself, Natasha,’ Captain Rogers reminded her. ‘There was a man. He got away. They appeared to be fighting.’ 

‘Fighting?’ Just like that, Dean’s hunter brain took over and he walked closer to the window to get a look. Sam followed. The woman was slouched in the corner, head down, like she was passed out. She had a bruise on her forehead. Her jumpsuit looked torn a few places. Dean knew she was a demon instantly. She was lying too still, yet she wasn’t asleep. Her breathing was too shallow and irregular, like she had to remind herself to keep it up. 

‘The man was chasing her. She had a computer with her, one of those ipad things, but he took it from her and got away.’ 

‘How did you lose him?’ Dean asked, wondering how SHIELD managed to lose anyone, or anything. 

‘He jumped into the water and dissolved.’ 

Dean and Sam’s eyes met instantly. This was at the top of the bad things scale. The others clearly sensed their unease. ‘What?’ Captain Rogers asked. ‘What does that mean?’ 

‘Winchester?’ Fury prompted. 

‘You’ve got one hell of a demon infestation,’ Dean said, giving Sam the “play along” look. They couldn’t share what they knew about leviathans. Not yet. They had no idea what SHIELD would do with that kind of information. Sure, just casually mention CEO Dick Roman was trying to turn the whole world into his personal buffet. What would SHIELD do? Arrest him? Lock him in a room? Then what? 

Until they knew exactly how to kill the sons of bitches, Dean wasn’t letting SHIELD into the fold. Not until he trusted them about a hundred times more than he currently did. Defenders of the Earth was a nice company slogan, but it didn’t mean shit to them. 

‘What do they want?’ Fury asked. 

‘Let’s find out,’ Dean suggested. ‘I’ll need our bag of tricks, something to restrain her while we arrange things, and I need to get in with her, and not be interrupted.’ 

‘What do you plan to do?’ 

‘Look, I don’t know if you guys follow the Geneva convention or not, but that’s a demon,’ Dean said, pointing at the thing. ‘It responds to pain.’ 

‘There’s still a person in there,’ Captain Rogers spoke up, face fierce. ‘Her name is Susan Beale.’ 

‘And if she’s still alive, we’ll try to save her,’ Dean promised. 

‘We’ll do an exorcism,’ Sam said. ‘If the demon has left her body intact, she’ll live.’ 

‘An exorcism?’ Fury asked. It was clear his patience was wearing thin. Romanov said something in Russian again, and maybe she did the sign of the cross, Dean was too busy staring down Captain America to notice. 

‘Are you saying she might be dead already?’ he asked. 

‘A demon doesn’t need the body alive to inhabit it.’ 

‘Christ,’ Captain Rogers swore. ‘Just- do it, get it out of her.’ 

‘Not before we get the information we need,’ Fury said. Dean was starting to like this dude. He seemed like the type who got things done and worried about feelings and morality later. He ordered their bag to be brought in, but then Captain Rogers insisted he come in with them. 

‘Look, we can’t have you interfering,’ Dean warned. 

‘I won’t.’ 

‘Dean,’ Sam spoke up. ‘It might be good to have another - uh - set of hands in there.’ Dean’s heart had almost jumped into his throat, but Sam had corrected himself in time. He nodded and decided he and the Captain would restrain the demon while Sam drew the demon trap. 

The woman pretended to be asleep until they were right on top of her. She lunged at Dean, probably believing him to be a regular weak human, but he and the Captain caught an arm each and wrestled her against the wall. She wailed like a banshee, squirming and kicking out. 

Sam sprayed the floor as quickly as he could, then brought in a chair and got their chain out. On the count of three, they threw her into the demon trap. It was perhaps one meter in diameter, so she didn’t have a lot of space to maneuver in. She pushed against the magical wall the trap created, hissing at them. 

‘Jesus Christ,’ Captain Rogers said, staring at the demon, then down at the trap. ‘That thing holds her in?’ 

‘Yeah, ancient symbol,’ Dean said. ‘Sit down,’ he told the demon. He nodded to Sam, who handed him the knife. Dean dangled it in front of her. ‘Or you get this.’ It took her a second to realise what kind of knife it was. She quickly sat down. Sam got the chain around her so she would be easier to handle. Dean stood in front of her. 

He did not like doing this in front of an audience, he realised. Especially not this particular audience. 

‘So, what’s you name, rank and mission?’ Dean asked, not expecting an answer. 

‘I know your name,’ she said, staring at him with black eyes. 

‘I’m flattered.’ 

‘Dean Winchester,’ she said. Did these demons never learn? Creeping them out of was never going to work. Why did they enjoy the mind games so much? ‘The King of Hell sends his regards.’ 

‘Well, you can tell him I said hi after we send you back to hell,’ Dean said. He began muttering an exorcism, and she immediately started whimpering pathetically. 

‘Stop, stop!’ she cried. Dean fell silent. 

‘Tell me your mission.’ 

‘Fuck you, Winchester,’ she said. ‘Crowley will whip your skin off, again and again, for eternity. He’ll boil your-’ 

‘I get it, boil in oil, the whole shebang,’ Dean said. ‘Listen, I’m not a goddamn tourist, I don’t have time for your seventh circle shit. Either you tell me what I want to know, or I kill you.’ 

‘You wouldn’t,’ she said, smiling. ‘They won’t let you kill her.’ Dean sighed. He stepped up to her and ripped open the shoulder of her tracksuit. He took the knife and cut a long line from under her ear to deep into her shoulder. The Captain reached to intervene immediately. She screamed like hell, until she started screaming like a human. The Captain pulled Dean’s knife-wielding hand away from her, his grip tight on Dean's wrist. 

‘Please, stop, I’m here, I’m Susan!’ 

‘What the hell are you doing?’ 

Dean ripped himself free, which surprised Rogers. He must have contributed it to him being unfocused, because he didn’t say anything, and instead saw to the woman. 

‘Susan?’ He looked her in the eye. 

‘Yes, I’m me, please, help me. It’s inside me!’ 

‘We’re going to help you,’ Rogers promised. She seemed to calm just from staring at his face. 

Dean got out the holy water and dumped a good dose of salt in it. He figured less visible signs of torture would be less objectionable by the great Captain America. He wasn’t mean or petty enough to point it out, but he was pretty sure the Allied forces did their fair share of questionable stuff back in the day. 

Sam gave him a look as if to say he knew what he was thinking. They both silently agreed that they needed information more than this woman needed to live. It was a hard choice, but it was one they had made again and again. If demons had infiltrated SHIELD, Dean didn’t even want to imagine the consequences. 

Rogers was crouched down in front of her, trying to calm her down, when Dean dumped holy water all over her. The demon screamed, pulled to the surface by the pain. Rogers jumped up in shock. He glared at Dean. 

‘What the hell is wrong with you? What the hell was in that water?’ 

‘It’s holy water. Demons tend to be allergic.’ 

‘When you said bag of tricks, you meant a bag of torture devices, didn’t you?’ 

‘Look, pal, I’m doing what I said I would, maybe you should try it.’ 

This was the guy who helped win the war? This was the guy people idolized, who people thought was the second coming when they found out he had been frozen all those years? He was suppose to be a soldier, and he worked for SHIELD. He should be well aware of the dark side of their kind of work. 

‘You could have tried to explain it to her, or at least give her a break before you start torturing her again. She feels it just as much as the demon, doesn’t she?’ 

‘She feels everything,’ the demon said, breathing heavily. ‘She’s in so much pain, but she is alive.’ 

‘Get out of her,’ Rogers said. 

‘I can’t!’ the demon hissed. 

‘It’s in a demon’s trap,’ Dean explained. ‘It can’t go anywhere.’ 

‘No, that’s not it,’ Sam spoke up, frowning. ‘Why is she still in there? Why didn’t she jump out the second she was caught?’ 

Dean hated it when Sam pointed out obvious stuff he had overlooked. Rogers looked at him as if he had the answer. 

‘Where is it?’ Dean asked the demon. He started pulling up the woman’s sleeves and checking her neck. 

‘In here,’ it said, opening its mouth wide. Dean grabbed her chin and looked inside. At first he couldn’t see anything, but then Sam handed him a flashlight. The top of the back molar had a tiny symbol carved into it. It kept the demon from being exorcised, and it kept the host from pushing the demon out. Demons very seldom used them. Weak ones did to possess people with pure hearts. Usually, however, they only resorted to them when they were in an environment where they might be tested or overhear an exorcism. SHIELD wasn’t that sort of place. 

‘What is it?’ Rogers asked. 

‘A demon lock symbol,’ Dean said. ‘Keeps them in their host.’

‘So, you can’t exorcise it?’ 

‘Yes, I can. I just need pliers.’ He looked at the window, ignoring himself and the picture he made. ‘You hear that? I need pliers small enough to get a tooth out.’ 

‘You can’t-’ Rogers said, looking a bit sick. 

‘You got a better solution? Should I just leave it in her?’ 

‘Dean,’ Sam rebuked quietly. He was ignored. 

‘Who put that there? And why?’ Dean asked, letting go of her jaw. 

‘I put it there myself, as a precaution.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘She was such a feisty little one. Kept throwing me out.’ 

‘If you don’t start telling the truth, you’re getting the knife instead of a nice exorcism back home. Your choice.’ 

‘I can still kill her,’ it said. ‘One sharp turn of the neck. You wouldn’t want that.’ 

‘I don’t think you want to try that bargaining chip with me. It doesn’t work.’ 

‘Swear I’ll live and I’ll tell you.’ 

‘Fine, I swear-’ 

‘Not you, him,’ the demon looked at Rogers. Dean rolled his eyes and stepped back, making a sarcastic gesture for Rogers to take over. The Captain stepped up, face half-sick, half-sympathetic. 

‘I swear if you tell us what we want to know, they won’t kill you,’ he said sincerely. He sounded so damn honest Dean had to look skyward to keep from saying something rude. 

‘Then ask.’ 

‘Why do you have that symbol inside you?’ Rogers asked. 

‘My employers insisted.’ 

‘Who are your employers?’ 

‘The King of Hell.’ 

‘You mean… the devil?’ 

The demon laughed. ‘No. His name is Crowley.’ It nodded at Dean and Sam. ‘They know him intimately. Bosom buddies, aren’t you all? He won’t let us touch you. Thinks you’re oh-so-special. Frankly, I just don’t see it.’ 

Rogers glanced at them, but didn’t comment. Just then the door opened and Agent Romanov handed Dean some pliers. She appeared completely unfazed, and remained in the room. Dean hoped she might be there to control Rogers should his conscience get overzealous. 

Dean grabbed a hold of the woman’s jaw again and got the pliers around the tooth. The demon growled around its mouthful, but didn’t make too much of a fuss. The tooth came out with one tug. Dean examined it briefly before tossing the whole thing to Sam, who gave him a look of disgust. 

‘There, now we’re exorcise ready. The longer you talk, the longer you get to stay top-side.’ 

‘The files I stole, would you like to know what they were?’ 

‘We know,’ Romanov said. ‘You stole several personnel files, and top-secret files from Agent Beale’s division.’ 

‘Looks like Susan wasn’t as good as covering her tracks as she led me to believe,’ the demon hissed. 

‘Why did you take those files?’ Rogers asked. 

‘Project Insight.’ 

Dean didn’t know what that was, and by the looks exchanged, neither did Romanov or Rogers. 

‘We find it very interesting,’ the demon continued. 

‘And the personnel files?’ 

‘We like to know who we are dealing with.’ 

Dean picked up the bottle of holy water, grabbed her jaw, and poured the rest of the bottle down her throat. She gurgled and screamed. Rogers grabbed Dean’s collar and pulled him roughly away. Surprised, Dean reacted instinctively and spun, his arm going up to knock Rogers’ hold off him. This time, Rogers definitely noticed something was off about Dean's strength, but not enough to call attention to it. 

‘Get off me,’ Dean muttered. He turned back to the demon. ‘No lies,’ he said. ‘Or else you get another drink.’ 

‘I don’t know anymore,’ it said. ‘Exorcise me.’ 

‘I’m not done with you.’ 

‘Dean Winchester, a human master of torture,’ the demon half-sang. Its head was all the way back, black eyes staring up at the ceiling. ‘Is it true Alastair himself taught you downstairs? How I would have loved to see you two work together. The way I heard it, you were on your way to becoming a great demon.’ 

‘Alastair is dead,’ Dean said. ‘He was one of your most powerful leaders, and my little brother got him barely breaking a sweat. Are you starting to comprehend what kind of situation you’re in?’ 

‘The righteous man-’ 

‘Your mind-games don’t work on us,’ Dean snapped. ‘One more chance. Information, or the knife.’ 

The intercom buzzed and stopped everything. Director Fury’s voice was heard. ‘Enough, just end it.’ 

Dean sighed and looked back to the demon, giving it a ‘sorry, dude,’ shrug. He started an exorcism. Rogers observed, walking around the demon trap. He stopped short behind the chair when the demon’s head came forward, black smoke starting to come out of its mouth like it was regurgitating itself. 

‘Wait,’ he said. He stepped up and touched the woman’s neck. Dean stopped. ‘Her neck’s broken.’ 

Rogers’ face transformed from the sympathetic Captain America, into a soldier hellbent on justice. The muscles in his jaw clenched as he came round to face the demon. 

‘I never swore to save her,’ the demon hissed. ‘Information for my life, not hers!’ 

Rogers grabbed the knife straight out of Dean’s belt and plunged it into the her chest, hilt deep. Her eyes went black, then her skin ignited from within, as if something was burning inside her, the noise like electricity frying something as it spread. Finally, her eyes went back to normal and she slumped in her chair. Rogers stepped back, a look of defeat in his eyes. 

‘Is it dead?’ he asked. 

‘Yeah, it’s never coming back,’ Dean confirmed. Rogers nodded, and left. Romanov followed.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean watched Rogers and Romanov leave, then turned to the body of the woman. Her neck was indeed snapped, though when that had happened was anyone’s guess. Sam examined her briefly, checking her over for any other symbols. Director Fury came in while Sam was looking in her mouth. 

‘We have autopsy facilities,’ Fury commented. 

‘No need,’ Sam said, straightening. ‘A demon possession doesn’t leave much except sulfur.’ 

‘Sulfur?’ Fury shook his head, Dean could have sworn he was about to say “I’m too old for this shit.” Instead he said, ‘Based on this, how many demons do you think we’re dealing with, and what kind of damage could they do?’ 

Dean and Sam had a silent conversation, lasting only a few seconds. Sam gave the answer. 

‘This looks like a scouting mission,’ he said. Fury raised his one exposed eyebrow. ‘She was low-level. She would have gone out without a bang on our easiest exorcism. She was gathering intel, but obviously she wasn’t very good at it. I think the key intel was on your staff.’ 

‘Potential possession victims,’ Fury surmised, staring at the dead Susan Beale. Sam nodded. Fury walked around the demon trap, looking for what, Dean wasn’t sure. 

‘Was she conscious, until the end?’ he asked, staring at her broken neck. 

‘Impossible to say,’ Dean said. ‘Some people black out immediately, others wake up in episodes. Some can live through it all.’ 

‘It’s like watching television through a screen that’s very far away, but somehow attached to your body,’ Sam said. Fury looked at him, probably guessing that was an answer that came from experience. Dean had never been so himself, but he the way he saw it, he wasn’t missing out. 

‘We can give you the tools to check for demonic possession, and a basic exorcism,’ Sam continued. ‘If they know you’re prepared, they might give up.’ 

‘Unless they send in the big guns,’ Dean said. If they were really unlucky, the place was already crawling with leviathans and demons. A supernatural power-grab in the middle of this place? Dean suddenly felt the need to get the hell out of dodge. 

‘Or are already here,’ Fury said, thinking along similar lines. He sighed, nodding to himself as he mulled things over. ‘SHIELD has never dealt in the supernatural,’ he said, voice low. ‘I’ve seen things that are out of this world, but this is the stuff that gets under people’s skin, figuratively and literally… Fortunately, SHIELD’s success is based on getting the right expertise for the job-’ 

‘We can’t work for you, so you can save the sales pitch,’ Dean interrupted. Fury was already nodding, having anticipated the rejection. He knew exactly what kind of men they were. 

‘Then I’ll be grateful for whatever tools you can give us. I’ll leave you with Agent Romanov and someone from the science division. They’ll want to do a few tests...’ He turned with one last inscrutable look at Beale, and left. Dean cast a glance at her as well, trying to see her as the Director had seen her, but she was just another victim to him. Maybe an office job was just what he needed, he thought disparagingly. 

They left the interrogation room and passed through into the hallway. Rogers was leaning against the wall about twenty feet down, arms crossed, with Romanov standing in front of him, speaking quietly. Dean couldn’t decipher the looks on either of them, except that Rogers was clearly upset. Honestly, he couldn’t blame the guy for that. Your first demon kill was always a mixed bag - the baddie was dead, but all that’s left is a dead person. Give him an exploding pile of goo any day of the week. 

Rogers righted himself when he spotted them. Romanov spoke up as they approached. 

‘Fury was impressed,’ she said. ‘He wants to know all your tricks.’ 

‘That was his impressed face?’ Dean asked. Romanov’s lip quirked just slightly. Dean gave her a small smile. She really was ridiculously beautiful, and deadly - not Dean’s favourite combination. There was something else about her, now that he was close enough to look his fill, but he couldn’t guess what - a sadness maybe, but not so simple. She was definitely a merc with a past kind of gal. She didn’t seem to be have the usual reaction woman had to him either. They were always easily charmed or resentful, and hunter-chicks were usually the latter. 

‘Got somewhere we can go through it all?’ Sam place, indicating their bag of tricks. 

‘I’m coming with you,’ Rogers said. No one protested. Romanov led them through the SHIELD maze, until they found themselves in a large lab, full of all kinds of equipment Dean couldn’t even guess the purpose of. A couple of scientists whose names Dean couldn’t pronounce were watching a recording of the interrogation. 

The rest of the day was spent trying to explain ways to identify demons, while being constantly told it was “physically impossible” for any of their methods to work. Rogers and Romanov were silent observers for most of it, but Rogers especially looked skeptical. 

It was more than a little odd going through this stuff with non-hunters. Dean felt unclean, like he was breaking a code, but people’s lives were at stake. Sam did most of the talking, briefly explaining how their remedies were usually a mix of folklore, Christian mythology, trial-and-error and handed-down techniques. He left out the angels, and not even Romanov asked about the hell remark from the demon. Sam did point out they liked to play mind-games, so they couldn’t trust a word they said. 

Finally, after being told for the tenth time that there wasn’t any difference between holy water and regular water on a molecular level, Dean said they were done here. Please, show them the fuck out. They left their phone number with Romanov and Rogers, just in case SHIELD wasn’t sharing that information with everyone who might need it. Dean wouldn’t put it past them. Romanov raised an eyebrow at the FBI card, but as usual didn’t comment. 

They got a different, less flashy, plane ride back to the Impala. When Dean could finally put SHIELD at their backs and drive like a bat out of hell, he sighed deeply with relief and said, 

‘Thank God that’s over with. If I ever see any of those suits again, I might scream.’ When Sam made no answer, except to stew in silence, Dean glanced at him. He knew exactly what the guy was thinking, but he didn’t want to talk about it, so he decided to ignore the brat. 

After ten minutes of nothing, Sam spoke up. 

‘We should have told them about the leviathans.’ 

‘What do you think would have happened if we did?’ 

‘They might be more prepared?’ 

‘They might do something stupid, like acronyms always do.’ 

‘The difference between these guys and the FBI is that they actually believe us.’ 

‘They still fight with guns. How do you think Dick Roman would respond to that? He’d eat then, that’s what.’ 

Sam sighed, frustrated with the argument, but unwilling to give in just yet. 

‘Come on, Sammy,’ Dean cajoled. ‘We don’t even know how to kill the bastards yet. Once Kevin translates the tablet, we can tell SHIELD how to take them down. OK?’ 

‘And what if their plans for SHIELD have already happened by then?’ 

‘Look, Crowley and his gang are working on this too. Enemy of my enemy, right? He won’t want leviathans in charge of SHIELD.’ 

‘Do we want demons in there?’ 

‘We’re done with this conversation,’ Dean said. ‘We gave them what we could. I’m not risking Dick Roman going under ground or going all Mr. Creosote on SHIELD. We need the element of surprise and I ain’t risking that for a bunch of know-it-all suits.’ 

‘Captain Rogers wasn’t wearing a suit.’ 

‘I swear, Sam-’ 

‘He looked a bit like you.’ 

‘Shut up.’ Dean’s voice was dangerously low, but Sam didn’t care. 

‘How is it you can’t see how amazing this is?’ he asked, shifting in his seat to face Dean. ‘Captain America, who everyone thought was dead, is frozen for seventy years, and then it turns out he’s the answer. It’s like it was meant to be.’ 

Dean stepped on the brakes hard enough to knock Sam into the dashboard. He only just managed to save his face with his hands. He swore colourfully. Dean got out of the car and walked around it to the grass along the road. Sam followed, watching Dean pacing. Suddenly, Dean turned and gave Sam a look of disgust. 

‘It was meant to be, huh?’ he asked sarcastically. ‘We’re not brothers. That was meant to be?’ 

‘We’re brothers, Dean, always.’ 

‘Bullshit.’ Dean turned and started walking again. He wanted to scream and punch Sam, but he knew he was so out-of-control he might not hold back enough. It was always at the back of his mind: always shake hands with measured strength, and lift things like they were as heavy for him as everyone else. Sam hadn’t even realised his big brother was special until he started hunting with them. He had asked John if he would become just as strong. John had said he didn’t think so. Dean had been strong since at least five. 

As a kid, Dean had always believed it was a gift, like he was meant to have it because he was meant to be a hero. Later, it became a curse, something that cut him even further off from everyone else. Then, it became a simple tool. Something that meant he stood a better chance at winning the fight. 

Now, it had become a nightmare. He didn’t want to be a hero like Captain fucking America. Dean Winchester didn’t belong on a lunchbox - he belonged on a wanted poster. He could see the horror on Rogers’ face already. His grandson, the righteous man who had started the apocalypse once, and then spent forty years torturing souls in hell. He was closer to one of those villains the Cap used to go up against in the 60s comic books. 

It was almost poetic. 

But, Rogers was a self-righteous, do-goody lapdog for SHIELD, he reminded himself. They weren’t anything special. His strength, and Dean’s, came from a failed experiment. 

‘Even the angels thought we were brothers, Dean,’ Sam said, approaching cautiously, but no less determined. ‘Castiel never knew, or he never bothered telling us. Doesn’t that mean something? What about Bobby? Wasn’t he family?’

‘Don’t give me that speech, Sam, I don’t need it.’ 

‘I think you do.’ 

‘Michael thought I was his vessel. How do you explain that?’ 

‘Who the hell knows how angels decide these things. Maybe your strength confused his angel senses. It probably means you can contain angels better than a regular human. Besides, he picked Adam in the end - maybe he wasn’t sure.’ 

‘That’s your grand, unifying theory?’ Dean looked at him sideways. Sam spread his hands, shrugging. There was no more, Dean realised. Only a goddamn DNA test. And wouldn’t you know it, for once, he trusted the science more than the supernatural, just when he least wanted to. 

Sam’s phone rang, his other, other cell. Only Kevin and Frank had the number, and Frank wasn’t too happy with them at the moment. 

‘Kevin, what’s up?’ he answered. He listened briefly. ‘Right, we’ll be right there. Hang tight.’ He hung up. ‘Kevin’s translated something useful.’ 

‘Let’s hope SHIELD isn’t monitoring our calls.’ 

‘That’s why we have to do this in person.’ 

XXX

Steve took the next day off, by order of Natasha. She had told him the order came from Fury, but he knew. He wasn’t that naïve. He also knew that recent events had messed with his head. For once, he knew he needed time away from it all. 

Who would have predicted he would one day miss Hydra? Sure, they had a cosmic weapon with the potential to wipe out the planet, but at least they didn’t scream when you poured holy water on them. He would take red skin over black eyes any day of the week. 

He rode his bike all over the city, until he finally wound up at the place he was trying to avoid. 

The sky was just starting to set, silhouetting the church steeple against a red sky. His parents had taken him to church every single Sunday of his youth, and he had tried to keep it up after they died, though Bucky had always tried to talk him out of it. There were better things to do on a Sunday morning, he’d say with a wink. When Steve had first found a church after being unfrozen, he had been surprised by how much and how little things had changed. 

Everything had changed now, though. The beautiful altar with three panels - the crucifiction in the middle, Christ being taken from the cross to the left, and Christ emerging from the cave on the right - appeared the same. But it didn’t feel right. Steve glanced at the baptismal fount standing off in the corner, empty of water at the moment. 

Demons and hell, he thought, gazing up at Christ. The depiction was painted right on the wooden altar piece, so its age showed, but you could still see the details. Blood from the crown of thorns, his hands and feet, the face full of despair and agony. It sent shivers down Steve’s spine, when before it had filled him with hope and awe. He was afraid he might be sick. 

His thoughts turned to Sam and Dean. Steve was a soldier, but these two were “hunters”. The word gave him some comfort. The forces of evil had not been left unchecked. Demons did not roam freely. They had stopped it - Steve had stopped it. He had killed, stabbed-

He had stabbed Susan Beale, but she had been dead already. The demon had killed her. 

There was no point in asking forgiveness, Steve realised. He had no reason to be here. The priest would have nothing to say about actual demons. He would probably think Steve was crazy. A part of Steve still thought he might be. 

He was just about to leave when he heard a crash from somewhere - the rectory, or was it inside the church? He heard the creak of a door. Whatever it was, it was in the church now. 

Christ - could demons even enter churches? For some reason, Steve didn’t doubt it. 

He moved silently round the altar, into the shadows. There was a man. He was wounded, stumbling. Steve almost reached instinctively for him. He was right by the door to the rectory. Steve could just make out his shape. 

‘Rogers,’ Fury’s voice rasped. ‘That you?’ 

‘Director?’ Steve rushed forward and helped him. He was bloody and wheezing. He didn’t even protest at being half-carried to sit on the edge of the altar. ‘What the hell happened?’ 

‘Demons, I think- I hope,’ Fury said. ‘Tried to have me assassinated.’ 

‘When, how?’ 

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Fury looked at him hard with his good eye. ‘Hopefully they think they succeeded. I need you to go in tomorrow. Find out who’s been compromised-’ He stopped, overwhelmed with pain, coughing up blood. 

‘You need medical attention.’ 

‘In a minute. We have very little time. They know this is your church.’ 

‘The demons?’ 

‘SHIELD.’ Steve decided not to ask why SHIELD would need to know that. ‘I fear they might be one and the same.’ 

‘I-’ Steve almost said “I don’t know if I can do this.” Going in, pretending everything was fine when he might be surrounded by demons. That was closer to spy-work. 

‘Don’t trust anyone,’ Fury said. ‘But get help.’ He rose, almost falling straight down again. He pushed off Steve’s attempts to help, making his way back to the door. 

‘Help from who?’ Steve asked. 

‘The Winchesters.’ Fury turned in the doorway, taking an unsteady breath. ‘One more thing. What they want, it’s likely Project Insight.’ 

Steve listened with growing horror as Fury described the project. Not one, but three helicarriers, roaming the world in search of threats to destroy with the push of a button. He couldn’t imagine what demons would want with it. Did they want to kill off humanity, or rule it? He wanted to scream at Fury for ever allowing such a thing past the planning phase, but this was no time for anger. He took in the information, and then Fury slipped away silently despite his wounds. Steve was left to exit the church as though he had just gone in for a late-night soul search. He wondered if someone was watching him. He would find out tomorrow.

XXX 

_The Next Day_

If anyone thought it strange that Steve changed into full gear the second he arrived, no one said anything. What was strange was the fact that SHIELD was not in an uproar over the assassination of its Director. Steve didn’t ask anyone outright, but after a few casual conversations, it was clear no one knew anything was amiss. 

He was summoned to Alexander Pierce’s office. 

Going up in the elevator, his journey was paused by Natasha, going from the fifth to the tenth floor. She was also in her combat gear, but since Steve was dressed “formally” he couldn’t exactly ask her what she was up to. She asked him how he was, and Steve tried to guess if she knew, but her face was perfectly normal. 

‘I’m fine.’ 

‘You don’t look it,’ she remarked, frowning. 

‘Just a bit tired. Got in late.’

‘Doesn’t sound like one of your days off.’ 

Steve tried to smile at the joke. ‘Went for a ride.’ She nodded, accepting his story, then she had to disembark, leaving Steve alone to journey to the top floor, and Pierce’s office. 

Steve had yet to meet the man, though he had heard about him through office gossip. Natasha had said there was a rumour that the Council had set up Pierce’s office here so he would be closer to Fury and could keep an eye on him. Unfortunately for them, Pierce and Fury went way back - something about an operation in Bogota. From the sound of it Pierce was more of a politician than a spy. Steve reminded himself to put on a good show once he got the news. Genuine surprise was key. 

‘Captain Rogers, it’s an honour to finally meet you,’ Pierce greeted with a smile. He was quite a bit older than Fury, with wrinkly, sun-tanned skin and gray hair. He wore a light-gray, three-piece suit and a pink tie. Steve felt a bit overdressed in his combat suit and shield, but he decided to not remark on it. He shook the man’s hand and wondered at his casual, almost happy, demeanour. ‘Fury was just telling me about your handling of the demon situation.’ 

‘Just-?’ 

Before he could finish the question, his attention was drawn by Director Fury rising from the couch to the left of them. He greeted them with his usual nod. He didn’t have a scratch on him. 

‘Director,’ Steve managed. It was a miracle he hadn’t leapt at him - or it. The eye never went black, and he didn’t look any different, except the whole not being near death. Steve followed Pierce’s offer of taking a seat, and he realised they were both probably demons. They all sat down. Steve leaned his shield against the edge of the couch and said yes to Pierce’s offer of coffee. 

He was having coffee with demons. 

‘So, you wanted to talk about the demon situation?’ Steve prompted, trying not to stare too long at either of them. 

‘Partly, yes,’ Pierce said. ‘I have to say I was impressed. Not many can adjust to the knowledge so quickly.’ 

‘You sound as though you already knew, Sir.’ 

‘Well,’ Pierce half-shrugged, ‘I’ve always been in touch with the spiritual side of things, so to speak. I always suspected there was more to this world.’ Steve nodded, glancing at Fury, but he didn’t speak or move. ‘What about yourself?’ 

‘No, Sir, I had no idea.’ 

‘But you are religious, correct?’ 

‘I go to church, Sir, but I don’t see how that’s relevant.’ 

‘I’m sorry, you’re right, that’s off topic. My apologies.’ Pierce took a breath, growing more pensive. ‘We fear that demons are trying to infiltrate SHIELD in order to gain access to Project Insight.’ 

‘Project Insight?’ 

Fury spoke up for the first time, going over the goal and scope of Project Insight with almost the exact same wording as last night. Steve allowed himself to react as he would have done last night. 

‘With all due respect, Sir, that sounds like something the demons came up with, not something they need to steal from us.’ 

‘We suspected you might feel that way,’ Pierce said. ‘You’re the honest soldier-type, but the threats we face today are a bit different than in your time. And now we have to add demons to the list.’ 

‘The only reason they are a threat is _because_ of Project Insight.’ 

‘But how many people out there in the world are suffering right now because of them? How many Susan Beale’s are living trapped in their own bodies? Project Insight could free them.’ 

‘By destroying them,’ Steve finished. He shook his head, trying not to become distracted by his anger over Insight. ‘Sir, what is it you want me to do?’ 

‘Ferret out the demons inside SHIELD,’ Pierce said. ‘The personnel files Beale and her accomplice stole, those people need to be interrogated.’ 

‘I don’t think it was her accomplice, Sir.’ 

‘Whatever it was, it got away. The Winchesters said these demons can travel through the air like smoke, correct? They could already be inside half the people on that list. I need you to start testing them immediately.’ 

‘Why me, Sir?’ 

‘Demons don’t do well inside people with pure hearts,’ Pierce said. Steve tensed, his instincts telling him something wasn’t right, and it wasn’t demons this time. Something about the way he said it didn’t seem natural. ‘You’re a righteous man, Captain. Fearless, strong, and honorable. You might be one of the few people completely immune to possession.’ 

‘How do you know this?’ 

‘The Winchesters, of course.’ 

‘Of course.’ Steve rose. ‘I’ll get right on it.’ He turned to leave, picking up his shield. The door opened and a SHIELD agent entered, one Steve didn’t recognise. 

‘Ah, let me introduce you,’ Pierce said, walking around Steve to the newcomer. He clapped the man on the shoulder. He was young, well-built, but his eyes were old. ‘Captain Rogers, this is Dan. Dan, this is Captain America himself.’ 

Steve wasn’t sure what was going on, but he shook hands with the guy. Maybe he could still get out without trouble. Pierce grinned after they had shook hands. Fury spoke from behind them. 

‘He knows.’ 

‘Agreed,’ Pierce said. He slapped Dan on the shoulder. ‘Congratulations! You get to be Captain America. Sorry, Steve, your services will no longer be needed.’ 

Dan smiled and his body started morphing. That was the only way Steve could describe it. With horror, he realised the man was becoming _him_. Within a few seconds Steve was staring at an exact duplicate of himself, only the eyes were filled with something foreign. Evil. 

The Winchesters hadn’t said anything about demons being capable of this. 

The creature popped the joints in his new neck, rolling his shoulders to get a feel for them. It frowned suddenly, eyes closing as it concentrated on something. 

‘I’m not getting it all,’ it said with Steve’s voice. It even had a replica of Steve’s combat suit, but at least his shield hadn’t been copied. 

‘To be expected,’ Pierce said. ‘He is a special one.’ 

‘But we can’t risk having him around,’ Fury spoke up. He was directly behind Steve, who would have to move very soon if he expected to get out alive. 

‘Just for the record,’ Steve said, his every muscle tensing. ‘I have no idea what it is I’m suppose to know.’ 

‘Then you’ll just have to die ignorant.’ 

‘I want to eat him,’ Fury said suddenly. The words made Steve ill. 

‘Nice try, but I’m pulling rank,’ Pierce said. Were they actually going to argue over this? Dan, the fake Captain America, was still frowning with his eyes closed, flexing his muscles as if he couldn’t quite get the hang out it. 

‘He’s mine,’ Fury barked. ‘And I’m hungry.’ 

‘I’ll leave you his liver,’ Pierce offered. Fury practically growled at the insult. Steve made his move. 

He gripped his shield and spun, knocking Fury hard enough in the neck to take a regular human’s head off. He continued his path around, letting go of the shield so it flew straight at Pierce. He was knocked halfway through the far wall. Steve didn’t pause, getting in a punch right in Dan’s face, sending him flying. Steve caught the shield right as it came back to him, having bounced off two walls. He didn’t wait a second to see if everyone was unconscious or not, he just ran for the door. 

Whatever these creatures were, demon or something else, he could not take them on alone. He had to get out of SHIELD entirely. He couldn’t trust a single person in here. 

The elevator was empty. He pressed the lobby button several times. Would they raise the alarm? Send every agent after him whether they were human or not? He took a few deep breaths, clearing his mind. This was not a time to panic. Get out, get somewhere safe, find the Winchesters, ask them what the hell was going on. 

Then kill fake Fury, and himself, before they used Project Insight for whatever nefarious purpose they had in mind.

The elevator stopped between the fifteenth and fourteenth floor. Steve knew it had to be them. He pried open the doors with his shield, but there wasn’t enough space for him to get through the fifteenth floor door. He looked up, finding the escape hatch. He was just about to jump up when he heard a hard thud, shaking the elevator. Someone had just landed on top. 

The hatch opened. Fake-him looked inside with a grin. Steve backed away, then just as Fake-Steve jumped down, he hit him hard with the shield, the force of him denting the side of the elevator. The Fake-Steve was tough, however, for he shot back with a punch almost immediately, sending Steve into the opposite wall. 

Fake-Steve was on him in a second, pinning his arms to the wall, making him drop the shield. He leaned in close, startling Steve with his unsettling expression. He could feel the creature’s breath on his face. It smelled disgusting. 

‘Guess you’re all mine,’ it whispered. It opened its mouth wide, but then kept going - wider and wider, until half its head was just a mouth, full of a hundred razor-sharp teeth, and a long tongue. If not for the adrenaline, Steve might have vomited.

Using the creature’s grip on his arms as leverage, he got both feet up and kicked out. It fell on its back, letting out a horrid screech of frustration. Before it could recover, Steve flipped his shield into his hands, and jumped, angling the edge of the shield down and guillotining the bastard using his full weight. The head came off, the blood looking like oozing, black pus. 

Steve backed away, pulling the shield free of the floor with a hard tug. The smell was almost unbearable. The creature appeared dead, but how could he be sure? 

He looked up at the open hatch. Any second now one of the other two could come looking for him. 

He glanced around in desperation, then he heard a strange noise, like a slurping, and looked down. He gasped in horror as he realised the head was re-attaching itself to the body. The oozing blood coming from the head had formed into long tentacles, reaching for and meeting similar tentacles from the neck. It fumbled almost, as if it was a blind sea-creature, but slowly it began pulling the head in. It was a sight he would never forget. 

Steve looked at the glass wall and the view below. He would hit the top of the lobby roof, which would slow him down. When he heard another thud on top of the elevator, his decision was made. 

He took a running start, held up his shield, and jumped. 

The landing was hard, but not unbearable. As he ran through the lobby, he couldn’t tell if anyone was pursuing him. Everyone was just staring at him, or running away from the falling glass. Outside the main doors, Natasha’s car was parked. She usually drove down to the garage, so why was it-

‘Steve?’ She appeared on the other side, having just got out of the driver’s seat. She looked him up and down. ‘Get in.’ She got back inside and started the car. 

Should he? What if she was one of those things? But she was helping him get away. All he needed was to get outside the barriers. He jumped in and she floored it. 

They got outside without any alarms being raised. So, either Fake-Pierce and Fury had hesitated, or they didn’t have enough of their own people in key positions to justify a manhunt on one of their own. 

As they got across the river, Natasha started fumbling for something behind the passenger's seat. ‘Here,’ she said, tossing him a bottle of what looked like some sort of industrial cleaner. ‘Pour some over your arm.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘It’s like holy water to them. Do it.’ 

Steve never could argue with Natasha for long, so he opened the bottle, pulled up his sleeve, and dumped a decent amount on himself. She watched his reaction, and when none was forthcoming, she sighed in relief. 

‘Mind telling me why I had to do that?’ he asked. 

‘Call the Winchesters,’ she said. She slowed down enough to not cause highway patrol to take interest, and drove west.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I have 1.5 chapters left in my other story, The King and the Fallen Prince, but after that I think this will be my main focus. Hope you enjoy!

They ditched Natasha’s car just outside of Washington. They would switch cars two more times, just to be safe, before finally arriving outside a small town in Kansas. The road was deserted, except for an old black car parked on its shoulder. Sam and Dean Winchester stood leaning against its trunk. 

Natasha stopped a safe distance away and they both got out slowly. No need to spook anyone. Steve still wasn’t sure he understood the difference between leviathans and demons, or why the Winchesters hadn’t mentioned them before, but he knew nervous people when he saw them. 

Dean held a bottle, like the one Natasha had insisted Steve use on himself. The four of them strolled to the midpoint between the cars. Sam greeted them cordially enough, though no one shook hands. 

‘Agent Romanov, Captain Rogers,’ Dean said, and Steve really wanted to say something about the sneering tone, but they had more important things to do. Dean raised his arm, pulling up his shirt, and poured a decent amount of the cleaner. They waited, and when nothing happened Dean poured some on Sam, handing the bottle to Natasha. She did the same for herself and Steve, who grimaced a little at the fumes. 

‘We ok?’ Natasha asked. 

‘Not yet,’ Dean said. Sam took back the cleaner as Dean fished out a flask from his back pocket. ‘Time for the demon test. Holy water.’ He took a sip, and the bottle had to go round. Steve thought the water tasted a little stale. ‘OK,’ Dean finally said. ‘We’re good, for now.’ 

Natasha raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. 

‘You said on the phone that Fury is a leviathan, but I saw him the night before. He was wounded, and he asked me to contact you.’ 

‘That would be the original,’ Dean explained. 

‘So, it doesn’t have to kill me to keep my shape, and the real Fury might still be alive?’ Dean nodded. 

‘How do we kill them?’ Natasha asked. 

‘We’re working on that,’ Dean said. ‘For now, cutting off their head and keeping it as far away from the body as possible is the best option.’ Steve sighed, running a hand over his scalp, feeling a headache coming on. 

‘Christ,’ he swore. It felt appropriate. 

‘Easy on the language there, Captain America.’ 

‘Why don’t you take it easy?’ he snapped. Dean’s eyebrow rose condescendingly. ‘What is your problem with me, exactly? I get you don’t like people with any kind of moral compass, but it feels more personal than that.’ Dean’s face darkened, which told Steve he had hit the nail on the head. 

‘Take your morals and go see if they can win this fight,’ he spat, nodding back towards where they had come. ‘There ain’t no Nazi uniforms to tell you who to punch this time.’ He spun and walked back towards his car. Sam followed, saying his name in a way that told Steve this type of moping wasn’t unusual. 

He glanced at Natasha, only to receive a similar look from her. ‘What?’ 

‘We need their help. Don’t antagonise him.’ 

‘Right.’ He sighed. Sam managed to get Dean to return to the conversation, though his face was still pinched. Steve wondered how a tough-guy like Dean had gotten that nice of a brother. 

‘I think it’s time we talked about their motives,’ Sam said. Dean shot him a look. ‘We know their plans for the… well, for the world, but if it ties into anything going on at SHIELD with this Project Insight the demon mentioned, we need to know.’ 

‘What are they planning?’ Steve asked. He knew Fury would kill him if he spilled secrets to non-SHIELD members, but this situation wasn’t like anything even he had been trained for. 

‘What the demon said,’ Dean said, voice grim. ‘We’re all going to get eaten.’ 

‘It meant that literally?’ Natasha asked. 

‘Yeah, very literally. We don’t know how, yet, but we think the leviathans might be putting something in the food supply to make us docile. They want to make the world into an all-you-can-eat buffet.’ 

‘How can they do that?’ 

‘Ever heard of CEO Dick Roman?’ 

‘Sure, Richard Roman Enterprises.’ 

‘Well, we suspect he’s moving into the food business.’ Steve didn’t know who it was, but Natasha did, and her eyebrows rose to her hairline. 

‘He’s a leviathan?’ Dean nodded. ‘Why now?’ 

Dean glanced at Sam - they did that a lot, Steve thought. ‘They just arrived,’ the latter explained. 

‘They’re aliens?’ 

‘No, they’re from Purgatory.’ Silence fell as they tried to process that. 

‘Purgatory?’ Steve clarified. 

‘Yeah,’ Dean made his voice like he was explaining the alphabet, ‘Demons are from Hell, Angels are from Heaven, and Leviathans are from Purgatory.’ 

‘Ang-’ Steve shook his head, he did not want to know. ‘So, they arrived on Earth. How?’ 

‘That’s a way too long story. What’s more important is what they want with Project Insight.’ 

‘That’s classified.’ 

‘Fine, have fun. See ya later.’ Dean turned to leave again. 

‘Wait, fine, but we need to go somewhere to really talk. Somewhere safe.’ 

The brothers did their silent conversation exchange. This time it lasted a long time, with Dean making a “don’t you dare” face. In the end, Sam appeared to win out. Dean huffed and turned away with a clipped ‘Fine. Stash your car in the woods. You’re going in blindfolded.’ 

‘Seriously?’ Natasha, Steve knew, was more than a little experienced with judging her location despite being blindfolded. 

‘If you want safe, we want safety.’ Natasha agreed on the condition they could bring all their stuff and Steve had to follow. They were put in the backseat, tied and blindfolded. What surprised him was how tightly Dean tied his knots, and the thickness of the rope. In that position, he realised he wouldn’t be able to break free easily.

‘Is this really necessary?’ 

‘You want to get off SHIELD’s grid?’ Dean tugged one last time, fitted the blindfold, and got in front. Steve frowned, putting the knot into his catalogue of odd things about Dean. The list was getting long, and Steve had to wonder if there wasn’t something supernatural about the guy. 

He tried to judge how far and in which direction they were going, but in the end he lost track. He hoped Natasha fared better. 

XXX 

_Several days earlier_

‘You’re sure that’s what it means?’ Dean pressed Kevin, leaning over the table to look closer at the translation. 

‘No,’ Kevin sighed. He was exhausted, dark shadows under his eyes, a sheen of sweat on him. ‘I’m not, but I can’t make it out any clearer.’ Sam sat across from him, a worried frown on his face. 

‘But it doesn’t make sense,’ Dean argued. ‘The righteous man? I’m not exactly righteous anymore.’ He walked round to sit down at the table next to Kevin. ‘Being in Hell kind of negates that.’ 

‘I don’t know how else to translate it,’ Kevin said. ‘The righteous man, wearing the crown of-’ he fumbled as he looked from his English notes to the Angel Tablet, squinting at the carvings. ‘Sacrifice, or maybe something like spears.’ 

‘Spears?’ 

‘It’s not like a word for word translation,’ Kevin said, gesturing helplessly to his task. ‘I can’t just Google translate it.’ 

‘I get that,’ Dean said. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just not making any sense. Crown of Sacrifice?’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t look good in a hat.’ 

‘Maybe it’s not you this time,’ Sam suggested. At Dean’s frown, he elaborated quickly. ‘The Apocalypse had a different use of the word I think. It basically meant any man in hell who didn’t belong there, but spilled blood. It could have been Dad-’ 

‘I know,’ Dean said, the old guilt still stinging. Sam sympathised. 

‘This time, it might mean something like that.’ He pointed at the television at the far end of the table. Dean had turned it on mute. There was a special on, about Captain America. 

‘You have got to be kidding me.’ 

‘Think about it, who is more righteous?’ 

‘He’s the “idea” of righteousness. He’s not actually like that in real life.’ 

‘Are you sure?’ 

Before Dean could argue back, Kevin waved his hand to get their attention, his other tracing over the carvings. 

‘Guys, guys, I think Sam might be on to something. It puts some of the other symbols in a different light. I thought it was a reference to Jesus, just a sort of hailing him or invoking him, but this tablet is so much older than that, it seemed out of place. I think it means the righteous man, reborn, or - I _think_ \- awakened.’ 

‘Awakened, from a seventy year freeze,’ Sam said, getting excited that they were making progress. ‘It fits.’ 

‘Say you’re right,’ Dean rolled his eyes as he said it. ‘Say Captain America is the righteous man, what kind of Crown of Sacrifice are we talking about, and what does he have to do once he puts it on?’ 

‘The Crown of sacrifice, or spears,’ Kevin mumbled as he went back into deep translation-mode. Dean sighed. They had probably lost him for the rest of the night. He had wanted to try and make the kid eat. Sam gave him a look of admonishment, as if it was his fault. They left Kevin to it and headed down to the kitchen. 

‘How the hell are we going to convince Captain America he’s destined by the word of God to fight leviathans? I hear he’s pretty religious, and those people are often the last to be convinced.’ Ironic that, but often their own beliefs trumped any possibility of the supernatural, or especially prophecy. Then again, there were those whose beliefs fitted nicely with those concepts, so maybe the Captain would jump at the chance. 

‘Could you maybe start calling him Captain Rogers?’ Sam made coffee while Dean sat a the table, grabbing a packet of potato chips from their last food haul. 

‘Why?’

‘You’re making him into his own icon, which means he’s not a real person, which means he can’t be your grandfather.’ 

‘Fuck off,’ Dean groused, his mouth full. ‘Spare me your psych eval.’ 

‘Fine. I think Captain Rogers will be convinced by the evidence. He’s already seen leviathans and demons up close. If he is religious, his version is probably old school, which might be good for us.’ 

‘Yeah, forgot, he’s 1940s religious.’ 

‘He’ll probably feel right at home in here,’ Sam said with a smile as he sat down with two mugs of coffee, glancing at the 1930s decor and kitchen appliances, with only a few modern additions since the Winchesters had settled in. 

‘Yeah- wait, what? We’re not bringing him here.’ 

‘We need him off the grid before we can brief him,’ Sam argued. 

‘Jesus, now you’re sounding like a SHIELD agent.’ 

‘You want SHIELD to know what we’re planning?’ 

Dean didn’t like it, but Sam was right. Luckily for them, at that moment Agent Romanov called with disturbing news, and they had to instruct her on how to check for leviathans and to get the hell out - preferably with Captain America in tow. 

XXX 

‘Welcome to the Men of Letters,’ Dean said as the pair pulled off the blindfolds. They had stashed Kevin somewhere safe, off-site, and out-of-state. They didn’t want anyone to even know his name, so the bunker was empty. Agents Romanov and Captain America stared wide-eyed from the balcony overlooking the main room. Sam and Dean made their way down the spiral staircase while the two adjusted. 

‘This is,’ Rogers said, ‘...old.’ Dean couldn’t help but feel smug that Captain America was impressed. Rogers descended the stairs, looking around at the columns, the bookshelves, and especially the old computers. Much of it was done in Art Deco style. It was like a time capsule, apart from the new television and other amenities the Winchesters had added. 

‘Who are the Men of Letters?’ Romanov asked as she followed. 

‘They were a secret organization dedicated to researching everything supernatural and cataloging it,’ Sam said. He gestured to the room, which they referred to as the “war room”. ‘This was one of their hideouts.’ 

‘But they didn’t hunt, just researched?’ 

‘Yeah, they were a bunch of nerds,’ Dean said. He put the two bags he was carrying down against the wall, Sam did the same with his. ‘They’re extinct now, except for us.’ 

‘Our grandfather was a member, but we were raised as hunters, so we just use this place as a base.’ 

‘Not bad,’ Romanov said. 

‘Why don’t we all sit down?’ Sam offered. 

‘Anyone need a drink?’ Dean said as he checked their mini-fridge for beers. He always hated having to go all the way to the kitchen. Romanov wanted one, but not Rogers. Typical. Dean distributed the drinks, then sat at the end of the long table. Rogers sat to his right a few chairs down, Romanov opposite him. 

‘I could make coffee,’ Sam offered. Rogers agreed to that, so that left Dean alone with the visitors. He tried not to look at them too much. Rogers seemed very interested in the place, and asked if he could inspect the computers. He didn’t look like he knew much about them - no matter their age - so Dean let him have at it. That left him and Romanov. 

‘So, you’re Russian?’ 

‘Yes.’ She smirked at him, but Dean couldn’t tell if she was amused, flirting with him or fake-flirting with him to gain his trust. 

‘You seem to be taking this whole thing pretty well.’ 

She leaned forward, glancing over at Rogers before fixing Dean with a more honest stare. ‘About ten years ago I was making my way through a forest near the Russian-Ukraine border. I saw something.’ Her mouth quirked up in a wry smile, as if she was embarrassed to admit she had believed it at the time. ‘I think it was a Baba Yaga.’ 

‘That’s a witch-banshee sort of thing, right? Old lady shape, thin and creepy.’ Her eyes widened in surprise at Dean’s recognition. He shrugged. ‘Supernatural creatures don’t need visas to cross borders.’ 

‘Right, well, it freaked me out,’ Romanov shook her head at herself. ‘I used to have nightmares about it as a kid, and at the time I dismissed it as my imagination.’ 

‘You’re lucky she didn’t go after you.’ 

‘I don’t know where she went- I was a bit busy being shot at by real people.’ Dean nodded. Just then Sam came back with the coffee and Rogers joined them. 

‘So,’ Dean said, ‘Who wants to start sharing?’ Rogers and Romanov glanced at each other, the latter giving a half shrug as if to say “why not?” Rogers took the lead, slowly explaining the concept of Project Insight. By the time he was finished, Sam had paled, and Dean was trying hard not to start yelling. 

‘How close is SHIELD to launch?’ Sam asked. 

‘We don’t know. Neither of us had security clearance for this,’ Romanov explained. ‘The only reason we know is because Fury told Rogers before he disappeared.’ 

‘This is bad, even for us,’ Dean said. ‘Leviathans in control of something like that means they can not only turn us into docile zombies with whatever Dick Roman is planning, but get rid of the people who resist. Vegans, I’m assuming.’ The attempt at levity fell flat. 

‘We need to contact SHIELD personnel we know aren’t compromised,’ Rogers argued. 

‘But we have no way of knowing who. If they can copy Fury, they can copy anyone.’ 

‘It seemed like they had a bit of trouble copying me.’ 

‘That’s probably because you’re special,’ Sam said. Dean rolled his eyes. ‘Leviathans can copy your shape easily enough, but sometimes if a person has special skills, they find it difficult to copy all of it.’ 

‘We should contact Crowley,’ Dean said to Sam. ‘Maybe he knows when the launch is, if he’s been spying on the leviathans.’ 

‘Crowley? Didn’t the demon mention him?’ Romanov asked. 

‘Yeah, he’s the King of Hell, but sometimes he can be persuaded to share information.’ 

‘You’re joking, right?’ Rogers asked incredulously. ‘You’re going to ask the King of Hell for help- And please, tell me he doesn’t mean that title literally.’ 

‘Yes, and yes,’ Dean said. ‘He’s a bastard, but he’s a crafty one. Demons hate leviathans as much as us. If they know about Project Insight, you can bet your ass the demons want to keep it from the leviathans.’ Demons wouldn’t want a mass-extermination. It would be counter-productive to their cause. Maybe they could use it to kill those already destined for hell, but they already did that through a variety of creative ways. 

‘So, we have demons on our side, technically,’ Romanov said rather optimistically. Rogers looked like he was taking the news hard, but he seemed more angry than overwhelmed. ‘Now it’s your turn to share. Do you have a way to kill them?’ 

‘We might,’ Sam said, glancing at Dean. ‘But we don’t know all the factors yet. It’s complicated.’ 

‘Complicated is why we’re here. Go on.’ 

Sam nodded, and started to explain the Angel Tablet, what it represented, and what - theoretically - it said about dealing with the leviathans. That led to a whole host of other questions, so it went on for a long time. He did not mention who they thought the Righteous man was, but Dean could swear he saw Romanov’s eyes flicker to Rogers. 

By the time it was finished, Dean had ordered pizza and gone out to get it. It was a hassle, but they couldn’t exactly get it delivered to their door.

‘When will your “prophet” be finished with the translation?’ Romanov asked. 

‘Hard to say. It’s not an exact process,’ Sam said. 

‘I say we call it a night, digest everything,’ Dean said, tired of the conversation. He got up before anyone could protest. ‘Sam, you show them rooms, yeah?’ With that he was gone, him and half a pizza, leaving Sam apologising for him. 

XXX 

Steve sat on the bed, staring at his hands. 

‘How are you holding up?’ 

He looked up at Natasha. She was leaning against the door frame, a sad smile on her lips. He huffed and shook his head. His room was nice and spartan, the way he liked it. The bed was hard, also a bonus. He couldn’t help but feel a little at home. But he was still trying to wrap his head around it all. He wished he had the ability to take everything in stride all the time, not just in battle, like Natasha. 

‘Here, I found this.’ She tossed him a book. He turned it over in his hands to find The Bible printed in gold lettering. ‘There were like two dozen different editions up there. I think this one’s from your neck of the woods.’ 

‘Thanks, but I’m not sure what use it’ll be.’ 

‘You could look up Leviathans. Sam said they’re in there. Psalm 74 has one reference.’ Steve couldn’t remember them from Sunday school. He started leafing through it, while Natasha sat down next to him. He found the correct part, and started scanning the verses. 

‘Thou brakest the heads of leviathan in pieces, and gavest him to be meat to the people inhabiting the wilderness.’ The verse sent a shiver down Steve’s spine. He had faced a monster before, but he had been made by man. 

‘Maybe this was a bad idea,’ Natasha said, taking the bible from his unresisting hands, and placing on the bedside table. ‘Try to get some sleep.’ 

XXX 

_The next day_.

An abandoned barn, a familiar setting. The summoning ritual was ready. Dean let Sam do the legwork, keeping an eye on Rogers just in case he interfered again. 

Rogers shifted his feet as Sam said the words. He had not been happy with the idea, but Dean suspected he was good at compartmentalizing when necessary. Soldiers tended to have to be. Romanov looked mildly interested. 

With a gust of wind, Crowley appeared, black coat and all. 

‘Hello boys,’ he greeted, then catching a glimpse of Romanov, ‘Oh, and girl. That’s surprising. You two branching out? And who’s muscle-man here?’ 

‘Can we skip the chit-chat?’ Dean asked. 

‘Surely introductions are in order?’ He looked from Dean to Rogers, when suddenly recognition sparked in his eyes. ‘Wait a moment. Captain America?’ 

‘It’s Rogers.’ 

‘My apologies. My, my, you are a specimen though. Even better than the poster-’

‘If we could skip the fangirling?’ Dean snapped. Crowley narrowed his eyes at him. 

‘I’m sensing tension,’ he drawled. ‘That’s interesting.’ 

‘What do you know about Project Insight?’ Sam asked. Everyone watched Crowley’s reaction, but he merely raised an eyebrow in interest. 

‘Insight?’ 

‘Cut the crap, Crowley, we know you have demons inside SHIELD. You’re trying to stop the leviathans from getting control over the whole organization.’ 

‘Am I now?’ 

‘We’re on the same side in this. We need to know how much time we have,’ Sam argued. Crowley looked like he was actually thinking it over. Dean knew exactly how much Crowley hated Dick. He had told his demons to lay off them just so they had a chance. Crowley glanced around the room once, before sighing. 

‘We’ve got about two weeks until launch, but you have much more important things to worry about than leviathans or little ol’ me.’ 

‘What are you talking about?’ 

Crowley fixed Romanov and Rogers with a shrewd stare. 

‘Hydra.’ 

‘Hydra, like the mythological creature?’ Dean asked, confused. 

‘That’s impossible,’ Rogers spat, suddenly fierce and angry. What the hell? Dean wracked his brain to remember what Hydra was in relation to Captain America. ‘Hydra died with the Red Skull.’ 

‘’Fraid not, Cap. My people have infiltrated SHIELD to the core, and we found some very interesting allegiances in a lot of heads.’ 

‘Who?’ Romanov demanded. 

‘I’m not giving you all my cards, Sweetheart.’ Romanov looked like she wanted to break his skull for using the endearment, but she kept herself in check. Unlike Rogers, who continued to glare. 

‘What do they want?’ Dean asked, enjoying being the level-headed one. 

‘What all secret fascist cults want,’ Crowley said, bored. ‘Take over the world and kill anyone who doesn’t like it.’ 

‘Everyone,’ Sam said, the word heavy. ‘Using Insight.’ 

‘God damn fucking Christ,’ Dean swore. ‘Leviathans and Hydra vs us and demons. This isn’t my idea of a fantasy football league.’ 

‘Your turn to share,’ Crowley said. ‘You got any leads yet on how to get rid of these monsters?’ Sam told him very vaguely that they were getting close. Crowley wasn’t satisfied, but he understood they were actually making progress. Their conversation was drawing to a close. 

‘I’ll keep SHIELD occupied, or the leviathans, or hydra- it’s all same thing as far as I’m concerned. You two do your thing. Save the world.’ He was about to leave when he looked from Dean to Rogers in a way Dean did _not_ like. ‘By the way, what is this?’ he asked, pointing from one to the other. ‘You two got some sort of history?’ 

‘Enough.’ Dean walked out. He didn’t try to listen to Crowley’s goodbyes. 

When they got back to the bunker, Romanov and Rogers had a long discussion about Hydra and what Crowley implied. Sam listened to all out it, but Dean was so fed up with this whole thing he escaped to the kitchen. He decided to make Bobby’s stew. They always had the ingredients for that, and it was something Dean had been able to cook since he was nine. He was in the middle of chopping onions when he heard Rogers come in. 

‘Food won’t be ready for another half hour.’ 

‘I’m not here for food. I think we need to talk.’ 

‘No offence, Cap, but I am really not in the mood.’ He chopped vigorously. Rogers leaned against the counter. He was a big guy, and even stronger than he looked. So was Dean, and he itched suddenly to test his mettle against him. 

‘Funny, Crowley called me Cap. Before that you used Captain America.’ 

‘That’s not your title?’ 

‘How about you try Steve. It’s not that hard a name.’ 

‘Yeah, sure, whatever.’ 

Rogers sighed, all put upon. ‘Can you please explain what I did? What did Crowley mean, do we have a history?‘

‘Crowley is a demon,’ Dean said, turning towards Rogers without meaning to. ‘He’s the King of Hell. He will say anything to mess with you. I’m surprised he didn’t sprout off a bunch of dirty jokes to make you blush.’ 

‘No, that’s not it,’ Rogers said. ‘And you really need to stop confusing me with whatever version you’ve built up in your head from comic books and TV shows.’ 

‘And you need to back off.’ Dean’s anger was reaching dangerous levels. He was angry at Rogers for not giving him a better reason to be angry. It was insane, but it was all Dean had. 

‘Is that what I need to do?’ Rogers stepped closer. Dean didn’t need this - SHIELD, Hydra, or Captain America. He was fine imagining ways to kill Dick Roman and just having extra strength, no explanation necessary. Why did he agree to that stupid DNA test? ‘How about you stop being a dick?’ 

‘I’m the dick?’ Dean grinned. ‘You want to punch me? Just like the old, _old_ days?’ He was getting under Rogers’ skin, and he was enjoying it very much. 

‘I don’t want to fight.’ 

‘No, of course not,’ Dean said sarcastically, spreading his arms in invitation. ‘The Great Peacekeeper. That’s what Captain America is all about. A steroid-pumped, nazi-punching, killing-machine-’ Rogers didn’t punch him. He grabbed Dean’s collar hard and pulled his close, almost up on his toes. 

Dean reacted instinctively, bringing his forearms down hard on Rogers’, dislodging his grip. They separated, and Rogers stared at him in surprise. Shit, Dean was being careless again. His anger started to deflate as he realised what an idiot he was being. Something sparked in Rogers’ eyes, and without warning he did punch Dean, hard. The suckerpunch sent him stumbling, but it wasn’t enough to knock him to the wall or floor. His hand came up to rub his jaw. 

‘Ow, what the hell? I thought Captain America played fair?’ 

‘Anyone else would have been knocked cold by that punch.’ 

‘You have a high opinion of yourself. I have a hard skull.’ Rogers wasn’t buying it. Dean swallowed and started backing away. It looked like Rogers wanted to test his theory further. This was not how he imagined this going down. 

‘What are you?’ 

‘Leave it, Rogers.’ 

‘Oh, it’s Rogers now, is it?’ Before Dean could answer, Rogers had charged him, pushing Dean into the wall hard. He reared back to punch him again, but Dean ducked, letting Rogers’ fist hit the wall. Dean slipped round, grabbed him round the waist and tripped him backwards, using his own weight against him. Rogers, surprised by Dean’s speed, went down hard, but he was quick too. The next thing Dean knew, he was on the floor as well next to him. Both of them got up instead of pursuing the other, putting their fists up like they were going to box. 

‘What the hell is going on?’ Sam and Romanov were in the doorway, staring at them in disbelief. Rogers and Dean straightened from their fighting stances. 

‘He’s strong, isn’t he?’ Rogers asked Sam, who immediately glanced at Dean. His lack of answer proved enough. ‘Why do I get the feeling it has something to do with me?’

‘Because it does.’ 

‘Sam!’ Dean barked. ‘Don’t you dare, this has nothing to do with you!’ 

‘You’re right, but you being like this has to stop. Something’s gotta give, Dean.’ 

‘Nothing needs to be said. We don’t need to be pals to do our jobs.’ 

‘No, but we need to be able to work together,’ Rogers said, calm again. ‘Dean, whatever this is-’ 

‘Don’t call me Dean.’ 

‘This is getting ridiculous,’ Romanov said. ‘You have issues,’ she told Dean. ‘And you always stick your nose into these things without thinking it through,’ she told Rogers. ‘But if you really are stronger than the average man, I think we should know. It’s an asset we need to be clear on. I don’t go into a fight without knowing my team-members’ abilities.’ 

Dean took a breath, slowly nodding. She was right. If they had to do this together - which he knew they would have to - things had to come out, sooner or later. SHIELD was a world they were not prepared for on their own. 

‘Yes, I’m stronger,’ he admitted. ‘I don’t know if I’m as strong as Rogers, but I’m pretty sure it’s not far off.’ 

‘How?’ Rogers demanded. Dean looked at him. 

‘That doesn’t matter.’ 

‘It does to me. If you’re something we’ve never heard about-’ 

‘The same way you did,’ Dean blurted. 

‘What? You mean the serum? How-’ 

‘No,’ Dean felt his stomach do a weird flip, like he was in the middle of a car crash. Was he really saying these words? It had to be the end of the world, and wouldn’t you know it, it was. ‘I mean I got it because of you, _through_ you,’ he bit out the words, his gaze falling away from Rogers to the floor. ‘Through my father, your son.’ 

‘That’s impossible.’ 

‘Peggy Carter.’ The name made Rogers pale, and Dean couldn’t help feel guilty suckerpunching him like that. 

‘Peggy-’ Rogers said, voice almost too soft to hear. His eyes were glassy. ‘That’s- she never-’ _She never said,_ Dean guessed. ‘A son?’ 

‘He died in 1979,’ Dean said. ‘An explosion in Warsaw, but I didn’t know him. I was-’ he sighed, the story still sounding unbelievable. ‘I was switched at birth. John and Mary Winchester got me, while my biological parents got a regular baby, no super-soldier genes. According to Coulson’s report-’ 

‘Coulson? Agent Coulson?’ Rogers gasped. 

‘Yeah, he’s the one that found me, and did the DNA test. 

‘When was this?’ 

‘I don’t know, a few weeks ago, maybe a month?’ 

‘But he’s been dead for nearly a year.’ 

‘Huh.’ Dean shot a look at Romanov, but she looked just as stunned. Dean shrugged. ‘I guess he’s classified. He did say to not tell you he was alive. Ops.’ 

Rogers closed his eyes and took several long breaths. 

‘Look,’ Dean sighed, feeling like he had to extend an olive branch as well as make an excuse for his idiotic behaviour. ‘I don’t like the idea any more than you probably do. Sam barely tolerates being my brother, and technically he doesn’t have to be anymore-’ 

‘Shut up.’ Dean clamped his mouth shut. Rogers opened his eyes, something scary and fierce burning in them, and walked up to Dean. He put his hands on Dean’s shoulders. They were heavier than they looked. Dean met his eyes warily, fearing another punch. Rogers scanned his face. ‘You… you look a little like her.’ 

Standing there, face to face, it was difficult for the other two in the room not to see the resemblance. 

Dean didn’t know how to react. He might be related to Rogers, but he was a Winchester at heart. 

Rogers smiled suddenly. ‘I’d say I’m too young to be a grandpa,’ he chuckled. ‘But technically I’m ninety.’ Dean’s mouth quirked up, hopeful. Rogers hugged him, and Dean’s brain screeched to a halt. 

After a while his hands automatically came up and hugged back awkwardly. Thankfully Rogers didn’t prolong the experience, and when they let go he did the manly shoulder-clap so Dean felt a little better. Rogers was still smiling. 

‘Why didn’t you just tell me?’ 

‘Eh- I thought you’d take it badly…?’ 

‘Because you did?’ 

‘No offence-’ 

‘No, I get it now. You were angry. It’s not like you were an orphan. You had a family. That matters. But trust me, blood is only half the story. Family is-’ Rogers glanced at Sam. ‘Family is whoever tolerates you despite it all.’ Dean took the words in. A part of him hated listening to the wisdom of Captain America, but another part of him was so relieved everything hadn’t blown up in his face his knees were going weak. ‘But I’m- I’m so glad you exist. You have no idea.’ Rogers shook his head, glancing away to hide his glassy eyes. Dean knew it wasn’t because Rogers wanted an heir, or a son even, but because it was a connection to Peggy. She must have been one hell of a lady. 

Dean glanced at the doorway to get some help from Sam, but the two of them were gone. He looked back at Rogers and tried to come up with some sort of resolution. 

‘I’m sorry I was a dick.’ 

‘That’s ok.’ Rogers smiled at him, and it was that Captain America smile Dean should hate, but it was too damn bright when it was directed right at him. He felt the weight of it. Rogers didn’t know half the story of who Dean was. Would he want a connection to Peggy Carter if it meant being related to Dean Winchester, the righteous man who broke? 

‘I’m probably still gonna be a dick a lot of the time,’ Dean said apologetically. 

‘I can take it.’


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I bet you thought I was gone for good, but I'm not! 
> 
> Most of the credit goes to reviewer DTS, who pointed out that it had been a YEAR since my last update. That has never happened to me before and it made me sit down and rework the story. 
> 
> Because it's been so long some plot-holes might occur because I've changed my mind or forgot the implications of my original writing. But hopefully there will still be action and drama enough! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! I do not know what sort of schedule I will manage, but just remember that reviews/messaging helps a bunch because it reminds me to get down on my ass in front of the computer! :)

‘That son of a bitch,’ Steve muttered. Dean said his eyebrows at the expression, but wisely did not tell the Cap to watch his language, which was understandable anyway, considering Coulson’s subterfuge. He took a discreet sip of his beer instead and looked down at the kitchen table. Sam and Natasha had left them alone for some "bonding".

‘Yeah, it was a pretty dick move.’ 

‘No, I understand why he did it- why _Fury_ did it. We needed something to bring us together as a team. But keeping it secret for so long...’ Steve shook his head and took a sip of his own. After a relatively short (considering the circumstances) moment of awkwardness, Steve asked about the whole story. 

Dean told the tale. About how Coulson had found them and done the tests. How the Winchesters had gotten the wrong baby, and how it was likely that Steve's son had been lost in Warsaw. Steve had the uncanny ability to be happy and sad, confused and wise, all at the same time, and not look any less Captain America-y. 

Dean was beginning to see what all the hype was about, and it was annoying the hell out of him. 

‘So, tell me about yourself,’ Steve said. ‘I want to know everything.’

‘I don’t know where to start,’ Dean said, taking a large gulp. He leaned his elbows on the table and tried to catalog when it had all started. ‘My dad told me the first time I showed any strength was the night when our house burned, and I kicked down the door to get Sam and me outside. I was five. But I don’t remember feeling stronger than everyone else until maybe ten. That’s when I had to start keeping it contained whenever I wasn’t out hunting.’ 

Steve leaned forward, eyes sympathetic. 

‘I want to know that stuff too, of course, but I was hoping to hear about you.’ Dean stared at him blankly for a few seconds, as though translating a foreign language. He coughed and shrugged, leaning back in his chair. 

‘Not much to tell there. I hunt, I like pie, I drink beer and watch over my little brother.’ 

‘What’s your favourite type of pie?’ Steve asked with a grin. 

‘It’s a tie, between blueberry and classic apple.’ 

‘Favourite beer?’ 

‘The drinkable kind.’ 

‘What’s the last thing you hunted, before any of this,’ Steve waved his hand at the air to encompass it all. Dean told the story of their last hunt, and found himself getting into it, laying it on a bit here and there to make it more impressive. Steve actually did seem impressed, once he got over the creep factor of supernatural beings. 

‘So what about you,’ Dean said when he’d finished. ‘Tell me something not in the comics.’ 

‘You mean you’ve read them?’ 

‘Sammy has, and he’s been filling my heads with facts ever since this whole thing started.’ 

Steve made a disgusted noise, and Dean chuckled. He realised he knew exactly how Captain America felt. He had been immortalised in fiction as well, after all, with a fair few liberties taken. 

‘What do you want to know?’ 

Dean thought for a moment. 

‘Since you’ve woken up, have you listened to Running Man yet?’ 

‘Eh, no, I don’t think so,’ Steve said, reaching into his trouser pocket and taking out a tiny notebook that looked very squished. He flipped through a few pages. ‘It’s not on the list.’ 

‘What? Let me see that.’ Dean reached over and snatched the notebook. Steve stared at his empty hands, contemplating the speed Dean had just shown. He smiled, leaning forward as Dean pointed to various items on the list, muttering “crap”, “lame” and “pass”. Only a select few items received a “keep.” 

‘Ok, we’re getting started on this tonight, because you are woefully behind. And Running Man just got bumped to the top.’ He rose and headed for his rooms, where his record player was set up. Steve could do nothing but follow. 

XXX

Despite the triple, or quadruple, threat the world was about to face, Sam and Natasha found the pair in Dean's room listening to mullet rock. The floor was littered with beers. 

'Jesus, did you have to drink the whole stash?' Sam grumbled. Dean only grinned and switched off the music. Steve lifted his beer at them and finished it off. 

'You can't even get drunk, Rogers,' she said. 

'But I can still enjoy it,' he countered. 

'Wait, you can't get drunk? Huh, Dean can,' Sam said. Dean, who had started picking up all the cans and bottles, froze in position for a second, before continuing on. Everyone noticed. 'Wait, can't you?' Sam asked. Dean walked passed him towards the kitchen. Sam followed, the others close behind. Dean put the empties in the trash. When he turned and caught a look at Sam he sighed and bowed his head. 

'No, I can't get drunk, not really.'

'Not really?' Sam asked incredulously. 'So, all those times we hustled you were never in danger of going too far? All those times I had to practically carry you back- or all the times you threw a punch in anger or-'

'Don't list all my good traits now,' Dean joked, leaning against the counter. He shrugged. 'I found out when I was thirteen, and I wasn't too happy about it. But Dad told me it could be an advantage, told me never to tell anybody, ever. I just got so used to faking. Sometimes I'd get so into character I'd forget I wasn't really drunk.' He chuckled, but Sam wasn't laughing. 

'Goddamnit,' he muttered as he walked out of the kitchen. Natasha gave Dean an inscrutable look and left as well. Dean didn't think Sam was too pissed. He'd have gotten a lecture if Sam felt really betrayed. Dean went to the fridge and took out the last beer. Steve shook his head at him, but he was smiling slightly. 

XXX

'I think I might have found something,' Sam said. Dean thanked his lucky stars as he pushed away the heavy book he had been reading. Natasha and Steve looked up from their respective research books as well. Sam spun his laptop towards his audience. 

'Kevin said spears, not thorns,' Dean pointed out as he read. He paused when he got to the alternate name: crown of sacrifice. 'Didn't Kevin say the table was older than Jesus?'

'I know, but this is the only thing that fits. We should at least run it by Kevin.' 

Dean agreed to that and Sam went outside to make the call and go meet Kevin in person. Natasha insisted on going along, in the spirit of cooperation, and so Dean was left alone with Steve. Although Captain America could be nothing but nice, even in the face of an unknown grandson who hadn't exactly shown his best side, Dean couldn't take the cheerfulness for long. After half an hour he decided to beg out for a much needed beer-run. Steve let him go with a rather sad and far too understanding nod. 

Thank God Sam hadn't taken the Impala. Dean drove like a bat out of Hell to the nearest shop, a rundown old gas station nearing museum piece age. Inside he got as much beer as he could carry with barely a glance at the owner. He sat on the hood and drank one. He never missed being able to get drunk. He had never experienced it at all so there was nothing to miss. But sometimes he was convinced the beer functioned as a placebo. 

'Drinking alone, never a good sign.' 

Dean closed his eyes in a silent prayer for Crowley’s visit to be short. When he opened them the demon was standing right in front of the car, hands in his coat pockets, looking his usual smug self. 

'Your concern is touching,' Dean drawled, finishing the bottle and then throwing it away into the overgrown ditch. Sam wouldn't have approved, but the place was practically a landfill already. Crowley tsk'd. 

'And now littering. What would Captain America say?'

'What do you want? How did you find me?'

'I know your hideout is around here somewhere. I have my people stationed in all the right places. I need to know when you come and go.'

'Great, and I liked the place.'

'I don't mean anything by it. Just friendly concern for an ally.' Dean snorted at that. Crowley took a step forward and gave him an odd look. Dean returned it with an arched eyebrow. He wasn't scared the demon would try anything, but who knew what mental games were in store. 

'You have your grandfather's eyes.' 

Dean jumped off the hood of the car and went to the door. 

'Come now. Can't take a bit of teasing?' Crowley grinned when Dean looked at him as he opened the car door and got in. A moment later and Crowley was sitting shotgun. 

'Get out.'

'You know I understand father issues,' Crowley said sympathetically. 'Or granddad issues in this case. The feeling of inadequacy, the legacy to live up to. Of course I'm King of Hell so I clearly won, but against Captain America - symbol of righteousness! Who could compare?'

'Are you done?' Dean snapped. 

'I just want to give you some perspective.' Crowley's voice returned to its usual timber, indicating he was finally getting to the point. 'The crisis we are about to face is a different kind than what you're used to. It's going to get ugly, and I'm not talking your usual apocalypse ugly. This isn't Heaven vs Hell.'

'I know that!'

'Really?' Crowley didn't sound impressed. Dean sighed and shook his head. He did not need a fucking lecture from a demon about the nuances of good and evil. But Crowley wasn't done. 'This fight is as much in your world as in mine, if not more. SHIELD aren't the good guys, despite their Captain Mascot. They're the ones who created Project Insight.'

'To fight aliens,' Dean had to cut in, though why he felt the need to defend them he didn't know. 'A bit outside my field, or anyone's field.'

'Three invisible warships patrolling the sky with hundreds of guns, all pointed down? Strange way to fight what's coming from outer space...' Crowley sighed heavily. 'But how your government works is not my business. I just want you to be aware of who's fighting who.'

'Please, enlighten me.' Dean rolled his eyes. 

'Hydra is hidden within SHIELD, the Leviathans control SHIELD, but I have agents in key positions in both organisations. Dick Roman doesn't want to tip his hand and start open war so, for now, everyone is operating under the assumption that no one knows who anyone is. The second someone makes a move, all bets are off.'

'I know all that. Your point?'

'Captain America isn't a righteous man in the middle of a crowd of sinners. He is a very confused man who will make the wrong choice no matter what because there are no more right choices. My advice to you is not to try and follow him, admire him, make him proud or fight for his so-called ideals.' Crowley was uncomfortably close by the end of his speech. Dean gave him a hard stare, but Crowley was all out of humour and just stared back. 

'I'm not some eight-year-old looking to make him proud,' he said eventually. 'I intend to stop all you supernatural sons' a bitches. SHIELD and Hydra can pick up their pieces after.'

Crowley looked him over once, nodded with a curt 'good' and finally got out of the car by disappearing. Dean was just about to put the Impala into gear when he spotted Steve standing by the gas pump looking disappointed and suspicious. Dean sighed and put his forehead against the steering wheel for a moment. 

How much did Crowley know and how did he know it? Who was he kidding, he didn't have time to investigate Crowley's information sources. Steve got in the passenger seat and Dean finally put his baby in gear. 

'You run all the way here?'

'Why were you talking to the demon?' 

'He was being annoying, I was telling him to go screw himself. It's an old dance. I know all the moves.' 

'Right.' 

'Don't go all Captain Mascot on me, please. We don't have time to pick and chose our allies.' 

'Captain Mascot? That a new one from Crowley?' 

Dean felt sick to his stomach and he sped up to focus on the road. It wasn't far to the hideout, but it felt like forever. 

'I'm sorry,' he forced out, biting his lip. 'Crowley has a tendency to bring out the worst in everyone. But he has access to information we might need at a crucial moment, so we're stuck with him, as usual.' 

'I don't care that you have to work with him,' Steve said, staring out the window. 'I know things aren't black and white in war, trust me... please.' Dean looked over at him and tried to see the Captain in the middle of battle, killing soldiers and Hydra agents. Maybe he was just as guilty of pedestal-ling the Captain as everyone else. Jesus, what a family they'd make. 

'I'm trying here,' Dean said. 'I think we all are.' Steve nodded and the rest of the drive went silently. 

XXX

'We need to get to Paris,' Sam announced. 'Kevin translated another paragraph and it's not the crown of spears, but the crown of thorns.'

'The actual crown of thorns?' Steve asked. 

'Yeah, things tend to get literal when you're dealing with biblical stuff. The crown is in Notre-Dame.'

'Wait, like the Notre-Dame? Like hunchback Notre-Dame?' Dean sounded far too excited. 

'You know the gargoyles don't actually sing, right?' 

Dean scoffed, 'Yeah, duh, course.' 

'What exactly does your translator say we have to do?' Steve asked. 

'He's still translating,' Sam said. He looked to Dean, who shrugged. They were too far into this to keep things from each other now. 'The tablet describes the leviathans as creatures with fearsome rows of teeth and backs with scales like shields tightly sealed together. To break them - kill them - the righteous man, awakened from his sleep, the crown of thorns upon his head, must cut their limbs from their bodies and divide them among the peoples of the earth to eat.'

Silence met this statement, until Natasha sighed. 

'Well, that makes things clear. So, first things first, the crown.'

'How do we know the one in Paris is the real deal?' Dean asked. 

'It's the most well-known and a good place to start.'

'We'll need transport,' Natasha said, sounding eager to go into action. 'I think we'll have to catch a bus.' 

XXX 

They'd driven three hours to a field far enough away to satisfy Dean's sense of safety - a dubious concept in times like these. The "bus" landed out in the middle of the field. Dean and Sam waited by the Impala and modern smart-car Natasha drove. All the SHIELD agents met out in the field. Dean couldn't hear what was said, but when Steve hugged Coulson he really hoped their tests proved he was all Coulson. 

As they approached, Dean realised they were seriously outnumbered and outgunned. He exchanged a worried glance at Sam, who nodded that they were still going through with the plan. 

'All clear,' Steve said as they came over. He looked at Coulson 'I'm sorry about this, but we need to be sure.' 

'Sorry about what?' Before Coulson could even finish the question, all four had squirt guns aimed and shot at the agents' faces from all directions. Two of them had holy water, the other two cleaning solution. Most of the agents just shielded their faces and cried out in annoyance, only barely managing to not pull their guns in shock. One, however, started screaming. 

It was the tall dark-haired male agent, Ward. Dean couldn't tell if he was screaming from holy water or the industrial strength cleaner. He drew his weapon, waving it about as he crawled at his face. The other agents drew their guns, but seemed too shocked to do anything stupid. Dean got his shotgun off first. Ward staggered backwards, chest full of salt, eyes turning black. Demon then, good. 

Ward suddenly sank to his knees, mouth agape, and the demon came pouring from his mouth. Sam began the incantation to force the demon back inside. Dean threw the shotgun to Steve and took out his knife. He approached the demon while it was forcefully de-vomiting itself. The moment the smoke was back inside Dean grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled Ward's head back, pressing the knife to his throat. 

'Everybody calm down!' he yelled. The other agents finally stopped their protests and orders - Dean hadn't even heard Coulson's shouts to stop. 'There is a demon inside your agent, and I fully intend to get it out of him as soon as it answers one simple question.' 

'Fuck you, Winchester,' the demon growled. 'Crowley said we were on the same side.' 

'Take it up with management. Now, you want to live or not?' Dean tried to ignore the three agents pointing guns at him instead of the demon. Steve was standing in their way, though, so Dean doubted they'd risk the shot. Two scientist types - Dean couldn't remember if he'd gotten their names the last time - just sort of stayed out of it with looks of fear and confusion. 

'What do you want?' the demon spit out.

'The guy you're inside right now-'

'His name is Agent Ward,' Coulson cut in. 

'He Hydra or SHIELD?' 

'What's it to you?' 

'Nothing, which is why I have no problem killing you if you don't tell me.'

'He's Hydra.'

'No,' the female agent protested. The demon laughed. 

'He's Hydra all the way. He's been fantasising about killing all of your the moment the order was given.'

'Right, enough,' Dean said. Sam began the exorcism to send the demon back to hell. Dean really wanted to cut the demon's throat and be done with it, but he couldn't let the SHIELD agents think his word meant nothing. The demon allowed it to happen. When the smoke disappeared into the ground Ward gasped and fell forward, vomiting. Dean stepped back and was gratified to see the agents pointing their guns at Ward instead. 

'It was lying,' Ward gasped. 'I had no control.' Dean didn't believe him. Coulson didn't say anything, just stepped forward and took Ward's gun away. 'Lock him up in the interrogation room.' 

His team looked shocked and hurt, but they all did as they were told. Ward looked like he'd been on an unpleasant roller-coaster for weeks and went quietly. Coulson remained behind. He looked at Steve. 

'I didn't know.'

'I never thought you did.'

'I trusted Ward with the life of my team. His betrayal means anyone could be compromised. SHIELD is compromised,' Coulson said. 'We can't trust anyone.'

'We need a ride to Paris, and I can't tell you anything else.'

'Of course. Come.' 

XXX

Crowds mingled in front of the cathedral, taking pictures and enjoying the sunshine. It was Friday, and mass was about to begin. Sam stuck out, but that was inevitable. Steve was surprisingly inconspicuous. With a baseball cap, sunglasses and nondescript clothes you really didn't notice him. They went in as pairs, trying to look like the other devout. For a second Dean was certain he would be struck down by lightning for entering the church. 

Sam couldn't help himself and started looking up at the gothic arches, impossibly high. The structure seemed both fragile and everlasting, the construction almost delicate yet massive beyond anything Dean had set foot inside. Far, far up ahead past the dozens of pews, was the high altar. In the middle Dean could just spy a cross, illuminated by a light and looking rather lonely in the large space. 

The church filling up despite its seating capacity. It was hard to get a sense of how many. Dean didn't pay attention to the rituals. He was feeling geared up, like before a fight. 

The voice of the priest was enhanced by technology and the acoustics of the old builders, but it became background noise as Dean kept his focus on the crowd. No one stood out, yet. Would demons even be able to enter such a holy church? 

Finally, the procession began. The holy relic was brought forth to the congregation and carried down the aisle on a red velvet pillow. 

'There it is,' Sam whispered, far more awed than Dean thought necessary. The crown, if it could be called that, looked more like a golden ring from far away. As it came near Dean saw it was a glass ring with some sort of branch inside with golden thread keeping it together. It certainly looked ancient enough. Dean was too far away to see any thorns. They waited for Natasha and Steve to set the plan in motion, but before that could happen, something much bigger happened. 

Four explosions went off, one by each end of the cross-shaped building. From the noise, flash and smoke Dean guessed they were smoke bombs - distractions. People started panicking immediately, and because everyone was running away from a bomb, they were all running into each other in the middle where the aisles crossed and where the crown was currently being carried. 

In an instant the crown was swallowed by the mass of people. 

'Get out, find out what's going on, I'm going for the crown,' Dean yelled to Sam, who nodded and made his way to the nearest exit, signalling to the other two to head out as well. Dean started pushing his way through the people, trying to see if the crown had simply fallen to the ground or if someone had taken it. 

The noise of the screams was deafening in the echoing hall. Dean used his full strength to stand against the tide of people. As he neared the spot where the crown had disappeared he saw the robes of the priest on the floor. The man was bent over, people only barely managing to not stampede him to death. He was protecting the relic with his body. 

Dean fell to his knees and grabbed the priest's arm, hauling him up. 

'Let me help you,' he yelled, hoping the man understood English. The priest held the glass ring to his chest. Dean grabbed the pillow and pressed it over and the priest understood, holding the pillow to his chest with the ring protected between it and his body. Dean hauled him to his feet and looked around for the best exit. 

Just then more explosions went off at the north and south ends of the cathedral, causing the crowd to change direction. Then another exploded much higher up, and this one wasn't a smoke bomb. 

Three arches along the north-facing wall collapsed instantly, stone falling to the scrambling people below. Dean shielded the priest. One large piece was thrown just a few feet shy of them. Dean began pushing the priest towards the exit. 

Someone threw a punch, an inhuman one with the force to send Dean staggering into the crowd. A man, ordinary looking in a suit and tie, grinned at him as he held the priest by the collar, the glass ring in held aloft in triumph. 

'Interesting relic,' he yelled over the crowd. 'Mind if I borrow it?' 

Dean pushed himself up, about to charge the dude, when Steve appeared, stepping from the crowd like he'd walked there unimpeded. 'Hand over the relic,' he ordered. 

'Sure, catch!' The leviathan -or demon- grabbed the priest and threw him up in the air at Steve, who had to brace himself to catch the guy without breaking the old man's bones. The leviathan/demon didn't wait a second and ran into the crowd. Dean pursued it, but it kept shoving people behind him and Dean had to shove them further out of the way. It reached the pews and jumped up, effortlessly walking on the backs of the pews. Dean followed. Another explosion sent him toppling. 

It had been close this time, so close Dean's ears were ringing and he was covered with small rocks and dust. He realised he was under an overturned pew. 

By the time he got to his feet he the cathedral was finally emptying, but a lot of injured and dead lay behind. Notre-Dame lay in ruins. A chunk of ceiling was missing, rows of arches gone, and the high altar smashed by a big stone. Dean couldn't see any of the others. 

He made his way to the exit. Despite the huge doors, only one had been opened in the panic. Outside it looked like your typical disaster area, complete with three hovering SHIELD aircraft. SHIELD personnel were mixing with French police and it looked like it was the latter who were taking the orders, not giving it. A voice boomed out in French and English. 

'Please remain calm, we are in the process of apprehending the guilty. If you are innocent, please remain where you are.'

Dean ran.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter to try to get me into things again.

Chapter 7 

Dean ran. He pushed through the crowd, feeling slightly guilty about bumping aside injured people. He did not look behind him, but he heard the megaphone speaker tell him to remain still. Fortunately, he wasn't the only one on the move. Lots of people were rushing towards the nearest bridges. Police were arriving on the south side, but Dean had a clear shot across the Seine before the French equivalent of a SWAT team arrived. 

They arrived just as Dean, along with a horde of people, crossed the bridge. 

Dean shot left along the north bank of the Seine and started walking as casually as he could manage. Eventually he jogged a little, zigzagging through the streets until he spotted a taxi. He disappeared into the city, spending time as a tourist while he kept one eye on the tv inside pubs to watch the massive fallout. Soon all of Paris was in lockdown. He needed to get off the streets. 

He made his way to the meeting spot, an old un-registered safe-house Natasha swore by. He waited outside, staying out of sight. There was no movement. The apartment building looked old and worn, though it might once have been the jewel of the neighbourhood, its baroque decorations ruined by cracked paint and the black spots of polution. Even with the curfew currently in place, none of the lights were on, and most of the windows were boarded up. 

Dean stayed at the corner for half an hour, hiding when a patrol car passed by. 

Finally, Sam came out. He looked pissed and worried. Dean made a whistling noise and saw Sam’s shoulders tense, but he made his way nonchalantly enough to the corner, leaning against it but not looking around it. 

‘Dean?’ 

‘I’m here, you ok?’ 

‘Yeah, a bit sick to my stomach, but ok.’ 

‘What, you eat some frog’s legs or something?’ 

‘Dean, we just destroyed Notre Dame. The entire city is in shock.’ 

‘We didn’t destroy anything, those assholes did.’ Sam shrugged, and Dean rolled his eyes at his giant skulking little brother, always taking the blame. ‘Who else is here?’ 

‘Just Natasha and me. I told her I had to get some air.’ 

‘Rogers and the crown are gone then.’ 

‘You didn’t get it?’ 

‘No.’ 

‘Shit.’ Sam glanced nervously up and down the street, but Dean kept his eye on the third floor windows. He saw movement. 

‘She’s watching us.’ 

‘What?’ Sam looked up at the windows. ‘So? Why won’t you come inside?’ 

‘Someone tipped them off.’ 

‘You think it was Natasha?’ 

‘Someone on Coulson’s team might have told them we were going to Paris, but only us four knew we were going for the crown.’ 

Sam cursed under his breath. Dean knew they had tested each other, but maybe the bastards had found a way to circumvent the test, or maybe Agent Romanov just liked being a double agent. Sam suddenly tensed. ‘What?’ 

‘Five, five of us knew we were going for the crown.’ Dean rummaged through his brain trying to make sense of what Sam was saying, when suddenly it hit him right in the gut. 

‘Shit, Kevin.’ 

They both hurried inside. 

XXX 

Steve first became conscious of his limbs stretched like he was on a rack. He was tied to something metal, tilted at about 60 degrees. The room echoed like an interrogation room, though someone had turned down the temperature. He kept his eyes closed, maybe out of a little apprehension. 

The last thing he could remember was a man gaping at him with a mouth full of hundreds of teeth. For a moment, desperation gripped Steve, and he wished uselessly that it had all been a nightmare. 

Then the door opened, and someone, or something, stepped inside. Steve knew his heartbeat had sped up, so his ruse was pointless. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and regretted it immediately. 

Fury stared at him, but the slight smile on his lips made him look wrong. His hands were behind his back, casually, but when he brought his hand forward he was holding the crown from Notre Dame. It was still encased in glass, looking far too fragile to actually be taken out. 

Fury stepped up to Steve and placed the crown on his head, looking at him as though he were just helping him pick out a hat. The glass felt strange against his forehead - he realised he was in a cold sweat. 

‘Behold,’ Fury said, stepping back, his voice flat. ‘The Righteous man is crowned with thorns blessed by the blood of Christ.’ He punctuated his proclamation with a mocking bow. He walked behind and to the left side of the rack Steve was chained to. Steve couldn’t see, but he heard the scrape of metal tools, knowing it was torture he was in for. 

‘You could at least tell me what you want before you start in,’ Steve said, stretching slightly, pretending to stretch his neck to see, but really testing the strength of the chains. 

‘We have everything we want, so why don’t you lie back and relax.’ 

Steve sighed. 

The door suddenly opened and Steve’s copy stepped inside, smiling. Steve felt his whole body stiffen, his hair standing on edge. It wasn’t like looking in the mirror. It was a pure sickening feeling. 

‘Give me a second, would you?’ Copy-Steve told copy-Fury. The other creature said nothing. The Copy approached. ‘Captain.’ he greeted, his smirk widening. ‘You left in such a hurry, we didn’t get a chance to really get to know one another.’ 

‘No offence, but I’m not sure we have much in common.’ 

‘Then teach me.’ Copy-Steve reached forward and grasped Steve’s head with both hands. Steve screamed. 

XXX

‘Agent Romanov?’ Sam called as they approached the door to the apartment. Dean opened it carefully, feeling uneasy in the dim light. The room was lit by a single lamp on the floor in the corner, its shade long rotten. A folding table stood in the middle, with two chairs. It held a soda bottle of some French make. The walls were peeling, and the high ceiling, once a splendour of baroque mouldings, was water-stained and full of holes. 

Dean felt more than heard movement and raised his gun right at the agent, who was already aiming at him. 

‘Easy, it’s just us!’ Sam raised his hands. 

‘He drinks, then we’ll talk,’ Romanov said, nodding to the bottle. Dean didn’t move a muscle, but Sam got the bottle and handed it to Dean. Once he had taken a sip from it, Romanov finally lowered her gun and Dean did the same. She sat at the table, her movements heavy. 

Dean took a tour of the depressing place while Sam sat across from her, speaking quietly. Once his inspection was finished he leaned against the windows, which were boarded up tightly. 

‘What happened?’ Romanov asked. 

‘We think Kevin’s been compromised,’ Sam said, eyes downcast. 

Dean was having trouble mustering up much emotion for Kevin. He knew he should be feeling responsible, but his mind was doing cartwheels as he tried to not picture Steve in the hands of Dick fucking Roman. 

‘So they have it?’ Romanov asked. Sam nodded. ‘You think they’ll destroy it, or would they have some other use for it?’ 

‘Destroy it, probably,’ Sam said. ‘Without the crown, Rogers can’t fulfil the prophecy.’ 

‘And that’s all you’ve got? We’re back to square one?’ 

There was something in her voice – the way she framed her questions, that crawled under Dean’s skin. 

Dean’s brain wasn’t aware of his body’s reaction before he had already moved, grabbed Romanov’s hair, and put the demon knife to her throat. Sam jumped from his seat while Romanov hissed and grabbed at Dean’s arm. 

‘Don’t move!’ Dean barked. ‘I swear if I see one puff of smoke out of that mouth you’re dead.’

‘You wouldn’t,’ it growled, Romanov’s voice too low to be her own. ‘You like this one too much.’ 

‘Not as much as I hate you. I thought we had a deal! Crowley-‘ 

‘Did I feel a tingle?’ 

Dean jerked and looked over his shoulder, where Crowley stood, eyebrows raised expectantly. Sam rounded the table to face him head on, gun in his hand, much good it would do him. He looked angry enough to shoot him out of spite, however. 

‘Get it to leave her, now,’ he said. 

‘Easy, Moose, let’s not get skittish.’ 

‘What the hell, Crowley?’ Dean asked. He looked down at the demon under his knife and made a decision. He released her and stepped back. 

‘Dean!’ Sam said. 

‘Tell your minion to leave her alone.’ Dean gave Crowley a bored look. The King of Hell scowled, probably because of Dean’s lack of reaction, and nodded his head at the demon. Romanov shot Dean a dirty look and then bent over, hands on knees, vomiting demon smoke. When she was done she sat back and breathed a minute. Sam went over to her and put a hand on her shoulder, which she shrugged off immediately. 

‘I’m fine,’ she said. She was looking at the smoke, Dean realised. It coalesced into a sort of serpent shape and flowed towards Crowley, who opened his hand towards it. It rose, following his arm and coiling around his neck, giving him a sort of smoke feather-boa look. 

‘You’re dismissed,’ Crowley said, snapping his fingers. The smoke electrified instantly, and Dean thought he could hear a distant scream as it dissipated. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. 

‘We haven’t been officially introduced,’ Crowley said as he stepped forward. Dean moved to block him and got a bored look. Crowley craned his neck to look around him. ‘How do you do? I’m the King of Hell.’ 

‘Leave her alone,’ Sam said. Romanov got up abruptly and pushed past Dean. For a moment Crowley looked pleased, but then he got a punch in the face for his trouble. It barely irritated him, though, so Dean was about to tell her to save her strength, when she pulled out a gun and put a bullet through Crowley’s left eye. 

It was so quick, Dean was impressed. Crowley was blown backwards into the wall, and slid down, leaving a nice paint-streak of blood. 

‘Shit,’ Romanov said. ‘We have to leave.’ 

‘Yeah, no shit. That was unnecessary,’ Dean said. 

‘Sorry,’ she said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. 

‘Your apology is not accepted!’ Crowley snarked from the floor, his eyes already almost finished rebuilding itself. He was red in the face, not a good look for him. 

‘Let’s get out of here,’ Dean said, not interested in whatever pissing contest Crowley wanted to get into. He pointed an accusing finger at the demon, still on the floor looking a bit like an old lady in his offended state. ‘We had a deal, you keep your minions out of our shit.’ 

They all headed for the door. 

‘You need allies!’ Crowley screamed in frustration. He got up from the floor. ‘And I know where they’re keeping your precious Captain.’ 

Dean sighed and turned, trying to guess if Crowley was telling the truth. 

‘You better tell us, or I’ll put something far more painful than a bullet through you,’ Romanov said. 

‘Easy, Princess.’ Romanov jerked, like she might attack again, but she reeled herself in. 

‘We don’t have time,’ Sam said. ‘The police will be on their way. The city’s on high alert.’ 

‘I have a safe house, undetectable by frogs,’ Crowley said. ‘I’ll share it, if she apologises for getting blood on my shirt.’ 

‘I’d sooner go to hell than go anywhere with you,’ Romanov muttered. 

‘That can be arranged!’ Crowley said. A moment of silence followed. 

‘Tell us where he is.’ 

Crowley ignored Dean’s demand and focused his gaze on Romanov. They seemed to stare each other down. Dean didn’t like whatever the hell was being said between the two, and he shared a confused look with Sam. 

‘Let’s go,’ Romanov said at last. ‘Sorry about the shirt.’ 

‘What the hell?’ Dean’s protest went unheeded as Crowley swept past them out the door, Romanov following him. Sam gave Dean a tense look, but the sound of police sirens forced them to scamper after. 

XXX

‘He’s not giving up his secrets easily.’ 

‘You just want a snack.’

‘I want our plan to go smoothly. Getting me in top shape will help with that.’ 

‘Sure you do. It has nothing to do with his succulent form…’ 

Steve heard the door open, and the two bickering leviathans fell silent the way employees do when their boss is near. His concentration wavered. Next thing he knew someone was grabbing his chin and forcing him to look up. 

‘Captain America,’ the leviathan said with false admiration. He looked like an asshole, Steve thought. ‘I’m sorry it’s to come to this. Out of all your species, I think I have a soft spot for you. Frozen for so long, only to be here at the end of humanity.’ 

‘Our very own frozen dinner!’ The other two leviathans guffawed, until they received a sharp look from the boss. 

‘Why are you doing this?’ Steve asked. He knew the answer, but every little second the creatures were talking they weren’t out eating people. 

‘Your Darwin spelled it all out for you,’ the leviathan said with great sympathy. He let go of Steve’s chin and circled him once before coming to a stop by the Steve lookalike. 

‘He’s a special breed?’ he asked conversationally. The Steve nodded. The boss leviathan sighed. ‘Ah well… I do wonder how delicious he tastes.’ 

‘You can’t-‘ 

‘I know. There aren’t enough hours in the day to be Dick Roman and Captain America...’ he said with a sigh. The Steve looked relieved. ‘But I don’t think you’ll get to be Captain either.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘You failed, or did I dream he got away? He was on the loose for days, doing who knows what mischief against us,’ Dick tsked, shaking his head. ‘Boys,’ he called and the door opened. ‘Bib him.’ 

‘No, wait, I didn’t fail- I can- No!’ The Steve leviathan struggled, but was helpless against four strong leviathans. He screamed so loud Steve’s ears started to hurt. Hearing his own voice cry out in such absolute terror was not something he was going to forget easily. Finally, they were alone. Dick approached and studied him like a scientist might a fly. 

‘Don’t worry, we’ll find someone worthy of you,’ he whispered.


End file.
